


Solstice

by ayy_zajjy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-10-21 00:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 103,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10673967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayy_zajjy/pseuds/ayy_zajjy
Summary: From their days at the Academy to prestigious careers in the Crown City, Ignis Scientia and Valeria Soleil had their entire lives planned for them - with no time or room for love. But when everything that once defined them is systematically stripped away, they must learn who they really are as they face an uncertain future together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s the new story I’m working on, featuring an original character I created for the world of FFXV. Ignis was my very favorite chocobro from the start, and by the end, I think he deserved some happiness (with a massive heaping of angst along the way).
> 
> Early chapters of this story will follow and supplement the game - I'll mostly be filling in gaps with things that happen offscreen, so there is some assumption that you've played/watched the game in order to grasp the big picture. The majority of the story will take place during the timeskip, though. This fic will obviously contain massive spoilers throughout and is canon compliant with the base game, but AU from the additional content, namely Comrades and Episode Ignis.
> 
> Updates will be posted on Thursdays. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Special thanks to my beta-reader and idea-bouncer, calilumina.

This late in the evening, the cavernous lobby of the Royal Energy Building was all but empty, save for a few stragglers working overtime. Ignis Scientia was there to see the one person who was always working late: Valeria Soleil. Vice-president and heir to the company, top of their class at the Academy, and all-around lovely individual.

A familiar-looking security guard gave him a wink as he approached the elevator to the upper floors, a look which Ignis pointedly ignored. He would think one of the wealthiest corporations in Insomnia could hire more than one night guard, but it was always the same bloody man on duty every time Ignis passed through. _It’s not like that, you fool_. It never had been, and it never would be. Not in this life, anyway.

The thought made Ignis sigh as the elevator zoomed upward toward the executive offices. Valeria had been his closest friend at the Academy, the only person in their class who was able to keep up with him intellectually, to match his genuine enjoyment and thirst for knowledge. And, had circumstances been different, she could have been more than a friend. So much more. It was something that had never entirely been said between them, but they both knew.

And those feelings had not entirely been eroded by time and distance. When Valeria opened her office door, idly twirling the wavy brown hair thrown over her shoulder, he felt his breath hitch, his heart beat a little faster.

“Iggy.” She smiled, her teeth straight and white. “I’m glad you could stop by.”

“As am I,” he replied, doffing his suit jacket and hanging it in the narrow closet near the door. He had last seen her three weeks ago, during that ever-elusive, narrow window when they both had a bit of free time. It wasn’t a date - never a date - just two old friends chatting over a cup of Ebony. He wanted to visit with her one last time before departing for Noctis’s wedding.

Valeria cut an attractive figure in heels and an impeccably tailored skirt; Ignis couldn’t help but admire her slim curves as he followed her into the room, taking a seat opposite her at the desk.

In truth, the office was nicer than anything occupied by members of the Royal Council back in the Citadel. Twice the size with a quarter of the clutter, it was all clean lines and simplicity in shades of white and grey. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic vista of the twinkling lights of the city, the Citadel looming beyond, its ubiquitous presence constantly reminding Ignis of his duty. _As if I would forget_.

Elegant glass bookshelves were filled with engineering and physics reference books, some of which Ignis recognized from their studies at the Academy, many he did not. Valeria’s desk was long and wide, polished to a sheen by the cleaning staff whenever she deigned to leave the office.

It was all very stylish and impressive and utterly sterile. There were no pictures of friends and family, no posters of the exotic locales she wished to visit. The decor was exceedingly neutral: inoffensive artwork and sculpture, reminiscent of something one might see in a hotel lobby, that Ignis just _knew_ her mother must have picked out for her.

He recalled their visits to the Royal Museum of Art and how Valeria was always drawn to the complex, difficult works - the pieces whose meanings were always shifting as new details emerged upon each subsequent viewing. But those sorts of things might ruffle a shareholder’s feathers, might assert some facet of her actual personality that some fool might not like. It was Ignis’s hypothesis that her mother had wanted not so much a child as a blank repository into which she could entrust her own dreams and ambitions.

“A royal wedding,” Valeria mused, snapping him back to the present. Reclining In her high-backed desk chair, she looked more like a queen than corporate scion.

“More like a royal wrangling, if I’m being honest.”

Valeria arched an eyebrow. “Really? The Prince isn’t interested in her? He could do a lot worse.”

Ignis noted the hint of resentment in that last statement. Her mother had been trying to arrange a marriage with a nobleman since the day she graduated from the Academy.

“Noctis isn’t interested in much of anything that doesn’t involve sleeping in,” Ignis said. No, he lamented.

“Then I hope, for your sake, that Lady Lunafreya is an early riser. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “I nearly forgot to ask: you’ve got to send me pictures of her wedding dress.”

It was Ignis’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Hearing wedding bells, are we?” He tried very hard to sound nonchalant.

Valeria scoffed. “Hardly.” He wasn’t sad to hear that. “I read that her dress was designed by Vivienne Westwood, and I need a new gown for the benefit gala this Fall.”

“I see.” Ignis busied himself with cleaning off his glasses, unable to quite look her in the eye as he asked, “And who is the lucky gentleman this year?”

Valeria fixed him with a look that was somehow both admonishing and wistful. “I don’t know. My mother’s compiled a long list of ‘suitable candidates.’”

 _And my name isn’t on it,_ he thought. No, he _knew_. His position as royal advisor certainly carried its fair share of clout, but Valeria’s family already had plenty of power. What they lacked was respect, the kind that came from a storied bloodline and an ancient name. Her mother had been born in a slum, attended the Academy on one of those charity scholarships, and no amount of money or brilliance would ever let the Lucian upper crust forget it. And he, a foreign-born orphan, had little to offer on that score.

“What about you?” Valeria asked. “Who’s your date for the wedding?”

Ignis snorted at the thought. “If I ever have the time for such things, I assure you, you will be the first to know.”

The flush that crept up her cheeks was enough to make him blush, too. Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken so bluntly, but it was true. His position afforded him very little in the way of personal time, and that was, well, not _fine_ , but it was something he had accepted a long time ago. And Valeria deserved better than that, more - so much more - than he could ever give her.

Maybe they were just torturing themselves by meeting like this now and then, but until she told him not to, he would seize these moments when and where he could and affix them in his mind, cherish her simple smiles and infectious laugh and whatever brief time they could spend together.

“Iggy.” She’d caught him staring.

“You look quite nice this evening.” Not that she didn’t always look nice; it was just that after three weeks he couldn’t help himself from remarking on it.

“Ignis,” Valeria said, her hazel eyes imploring. “Don’t.”

Ignis let out a heavy sigh and fiddled with his shirtsleeves, but he didn’t apologize. He’d never apologize for telling her that she was beautiful.

“When do you have to go back?” Valeria asked by way of changing the subject, her eyes begging him to stay, her mouth set in a grim line of acceptance that he always had to go.

Ignis checked the time on his phone. “Noctis should still be at dinner.” The Prince was dining with his father tonight, and undoubtedly getting an earful about how to behave around his new bride. It was nice to let someone else do the nagging for a change.

A small smile spread across Valeria’s face, the kind of smile Ignis liked to think was just for him, and then she opened one of her desk drawers, producing a deck of playing cards and a small bottle of top-shelf brandy.

“Drinking on the job?” he asked, shuffling the cards, not bothering to ask what she wanted to play. He knew. They _always_ played the same card game, both unable to find another opponent who provided any sort of challenge. Valeria poured a generous serving of alcohol into two small glasses.

“Maybe you just bring out my rebellious side.”

It was Ignis’s turn to flush and ask her to stop, and he quickly looked down at the desk to deal the cards.

A few sips of fantastic brandy and a few more wistful glances later, and it was evident they both had drawn absolutely terrible hands - there would be no winner here tonight, just someone who lost less.

“Ah, well,” Ignis said, tossing his cards onto the glass desktop in defeat. “Perhaps the Six will be kinder to us next time.”

Across from him, Valeria smiled. “Until next time, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

Both Valeria and her mother had received invitations to attend the party at the Citadel to commemorate the signing of the treaty with the Empire. But work didn’t pause for politics, so Valeria found herself getting ready in her office suite at a few minutes past seven, doing the best she could with her hair and makeup in the small, poorly lit bathroom, mildly annoyed that she had missed out on her evening jog.

Her mother was already at the party and sent the family driver back to pick her up. The Citadel was draped in black and gold, no expense spared on decorations and catering, and predictably packed, a veritable catalog of Lucis’s best and brightest (save the Crown Prince, of course). Valeria recognized most of the Lucian guests from similar events in the past, but she was surprised to see Kingsglaive uniforms on all the guards.

But it was a special occasion, after all. And the party was crawling with Niffs. White and red garbed Imperials dotted the crowd, and it was strained smiles and awkward pleasantries all around; just because they were now at peace didn’t mean either side had to like it.

Valeria caught sight of her mother’s dark bobbed hair among the crowd and, after greeting several women with whom she’d gone to school, made her way across the ballroom.

“Ah, my lovely daughter, Valeria,” her mother said smoothly, introducing several people Valeria recognized as potential investors. That explained why her mother was laughing at all their bad jokes. Valeria smiled and played along, but she was relieved when the men moved on to the bar.

Her mother immediately turned off the charm and gave her daughter an appraising once-over. “Why didn’t you wear that new black dress?”

 _Because I didn’t choose it for myself_ , Valeria thought. Going on twenty-three years old and her mother still tried to pick out her clothes. It was embarrassing. Aloud, she said, “I just like this one.”

Her mother frowned, as if to say navy blue was somehow too ostentatious, but blessedly let it go.

Instead, she said pointed to the little leather bag attached to Valeria’s wrist containing her phone, ID, lipstick, and some gil if she needed to call a cab to make a quick exit. “Get someone to check that. Your phone makes you so antisocial.”

Valeria spread her hands in exasperation. “Anything else I’m doing wrong?”

“Oh, hush.” Her mother gave her a playful swat on the arm. “You look very nice. Did you see Godric Octavio over there? Why don’t you go say hello? I can’t believe a handsome young man like that is still single.”

 _That’s because he’s an insufferable shit_. Godric Octavio was indeed quite handsome, perhaps even better-looking than the Crown Prince himself. The Octavio family shared a common ancestry with the Caelum dynasty, claiming descent from the eighth son of some ancient and virile king, and the resemblance was still there to some degree. Valeria didn’t care about any of that, but if it would get her mother off her back…

“Fine,” she muttered.

“Don’t slouch, dear.” Her mother always had to have the last word.

Valeria migrated over to where Godric Octavio was attempting to flirt with some poor serving girl.

“Hello, Godric,” she said cordially. The waitress gave her a grateful look and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Godric hungrily took in Valeria’s appearance with heavily-lidded eyes. He’d clearly taken advantage of the open bar.

“Valeria Soleil,” he slurred, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “You’re looking _good_. Way better than high school,” he added, gaze glued to her chest.

 _Charming_. Valeria ignored the sudden, overwhelming urge to take a bath and forced a smile.

“How _kind_ of you to say.” Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t be outright rude to him - that would inevitably make its way back to her mother and then she’d never hear the end of it. But that didn’t mean she had to be _nice_.

“I’m surprised to find you all alone over here,” she said with a dark smile. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch.” At the Academy, Godric had always, _always_ been surrounded by a gaggle of girls.

Something coherent flashed behind his eyes, a recognition that ‘ _oh, we’re going to play this game_ ,’ before they glazed back over with drink. Before he could respond, an ear-splitting rumble shook the roof above them.

Valeria jumped, startled, but let out a laugh when she looked through a window and saw a hundred sparkling points of light blanketing the nighttime sky.

“Let’s check out the show,” Godric said, taking her arm. “And make both our mothers happy.”

That made Valeria smirk. She followed her escort out onto the terrace, ignoring the way he kept bumping into her as they walked. Along with the rest of the party-goers, she watched the impressive fireworks display heralding Lucis’s peace with the Nifleheim Empire. And she might have even enjoyed it, if not for Godric trying to slip an arm around her hips.

“You know, you never gave me the time of day back in school. Heh heh...I bet us being here like this now would really piss Scientia off.” When Valeria turned to frown at him, Godric drained the remains of his drink. “Where is old four-eyes anyway? Not here, obviously, since he’s not up your ass.”

That gave her pause. Were they really so obvious that even a blockhead like Godric Octavio had taken notice? Not that they ever did anything other than socialize, anyway. _He’s drunk_ , she reminded herself. _And trying to get a rise out of you_.

In response to his question, Valeria shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “Out of town, I guess.” No one needed to know that she’d spoken with Ignis on the phone just yesterday.

“I never could stand that smug son of a bitch,” Godric muttered. “Always walking around like he was hot shit, all because he works for the Prince.”

“Well, the feeling was mutual, I assure you.” Valeria turned back to the fireworks, trying to squash the little bead of irritation that cropped up at someone badmouthing Ignis.  _Were it socially acceptable, Scientia would kick your ass_ , she thought with a smile.

She wondered if he was back on the road to Altissia now. He’d texted her several times to tell her that the car had broken down, but mostly to lament the Prince’s lackadaisical attitude toward the whole affair.

 _Poor Iggy_. Did all royal chamberlains have to deal with this sort of thing, or had he been saddled with a particularly difficult charge? Valeria had texted him back with the hopeful reminder that, at the very least, he’d be getting help from Lady Lunafreya soon.

Godric wandered off in search of another drink, or maybe another female, as the fireworks continued to pop and crackle overhead. Unsurprisingly, it seemed they’d pulled out all the stops with the display, each wave of light getting brighter and louder than before. The force of the it had even started to shake the furniture on the terrace, plates and glasses rattling against tabletops.

A massive _boom_ actually knocked some of the decorations over, and caused Valeria to sway slightly on her feet. She looked around her then, seeing faltering smiles and hearing nervous laughter. If this was part of the show, maybe the were overdoing it a bit.

A deafening crack sounded, and the floor suddenly fell away from her feet. No, this wasn’t part of the show. This was _wrong_. Very wrong.

When Valeria next blinked, her face was inches from the floor tiles and screams filled her ringing ears. She pushed herself to her feet, strangely fixated with the tear in her pantyhose and the little bit of blood welling up on her knee. Another blow sent her sprawling into a serving cart, and she found herself mumbling an apology to no one in particular as she picked herself back up.

In front of her, a corner of the terrace had simply vanished. People were covered in plaster, dust, and splintered wood. Some were moving; many were not. In the midst of the rubble she made out the bloody ruin of half of Godric Octavio’s handsome face.

Valeria stared at the scene before her uncomprehending, like there was some disconnect between her eyes and brain. A tug on her arm and her name being shouted in her ear drew her attention away from the horror.

“Valeria, we have to go.” Her mother grabbed her hand.

Valeria blinked at her. “Mom, what…?”

“ _Now_ , Valeria.” Valeria allowed herself to be lead along by the hand like a small child, trying to fathom just what was happening. The building continued to rumble and shake. A huge mass of people clogged the entrance to the stairwell, pushing, screaming, shouting.

“ _Move_!” Valeria’s mother was shorter than her daughter, and rail thin, but she shoved people aside with the ease of a man twice her size, pulling Valeria through the crowd and fighting their way down the stairs.

A siren began to blare, not just in the building, but throughout the city. Valeria had never heard it before, but its meaning was clear: _Get out_. _Run_.

Her mother stepped over a splayed body on the landing, pulling Valeria along when she balked. _Sorry_ , she wanted to say to the unfortunate person. Maybe they should stop and help, but she was too afraid to do anything but follow where her mother pulled her.

They tumbled out into the city street along with the handful of others who had managed to make it all the way out of the building. The air seemed almost like a solid mass, thick with smoke and dust. Beneath the drone of the emergency siren was the whir of engines overhead, the _rat-a-tat_ of gunfire and boom of explosives.

With one hand clinging to her mother and the other clasped over her mouth in a vain attempt to the filter the choking air and stem her coughing, Valeria ran, trusting her mother to understand what was going on, to lead them to safety. The city of Insomnia was no longer recognizable, like they had been plucked up by an invisible hand and dropped into a warzone, the faraway kind she read about in the newspapers, not where she lived. Not the impenetrable Crown City.

As they rounded the corner of a narrow alley, her mother skidded to a halt, and Valeria collided with her back. In front of them eerie red lights hovered in the gloom, and there was a clattering of metal on metal as mechanical men emerged from the fog with rifles drawn…

Gunfire rang out and Valeria felt her body being shoved aside, searing pain ripping through her left shoulder. Her mother twisted and spun, her body hanging in the air for what seemed like an impossibly long time before crumpling bonelessly to the ground.

Valeria crawled over to her on her knees. Her mother’s dark eyes were rolled to the back of her head, the grey dust covering her body punctuated by at least a dozen bloody, red holes.

“Mom!” Valeria screamed, shaking her. “Mama! Mama!”

 _Run_. It was her mother’s voice, not coming from the body Valeria clutched, but firm and commanding, directly in her ear. _Run_.

Valeria looked up and saw the magitek soldiers reloading their rifles. _Run_.

She dropped her mother’s body and took off, back down the alley. She ran and ran, tears stinging her eyes, smoke filling her lungs, not stopping for anyone or anything in the streets. She might have even been running in circles for all she knew, but eventually found herself on a broken causeway where the fog wasn’t as thick, where far off in the distance she could see what remained of the Wall.

Eventually her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, left arm hanging limp and numb. Her entire left side was covered in blood. _Oh_ , she thought, feeling strangely detached. _They shot me_.

When the adrenaline started to wear off, she began to shake, her left side seized up in pain, and she collapsed on the pavement. Valeria couldn’t say how long she laid there, trying to find the moon and stars through the haze. By the time they came for her, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and nothing hurt anymore.

She found herself being scooped up by metal arms clad in white and red, muffled voices saying something about the _‘medicus_.’ She wanted to fight back, kick and scream at them for killing her mother, but she couldn’t move.

 _They’re going to kill me too_ , she thought, as she was dumped into the back of some sort of vehicle. Was there even anyone left who would care? The company might erect some kind of memorial in her honor, and people would say she was taken too young, say she had so much potential, but they wouldn’t actually grieve her loss. Her father and Ignis might, but they both had their own lives, complete without her in them. That thought somehow made her sadder than the idea of her impending demise.

And with that sense of loneliness, the darkness enveloped her, smooth and cold and comforting.

 

* * *

 

Despite their numerous misadventures, Ignis had to admit he was enjoying his time on the road. It was good to stretch his legs, to actually wander the wilds outside of the city instead of reading about them in books, to finally put all that combat training with the Marshal to good use.

Noctis remained ambivalent as ever, but Prompto and Gladiolus seemed to genuinely enjoy and appreciate his cooking at camp and compliment his skills on the battlefield. Ignis didn’t do these things for praise, of course - it was all part of his job - but it nonetheless felt good to be acknowledged by his friends.

And so he woke (before the others, of course) with a particular sense of fullness, not pertaining to food or hunger, but a contentment of the heart and soul. His intention was to watch the sunrise over Galdin Quay with a good cup of Ebony in hand before they embarked on the ferry for Altissia and Noctis’s wedding. He had a suspicion this might be the last chance he had to relax for a while.

As it was, his hunch proved correct, but for reasons he never could have predicted.

Strangely, he found the coffee counter empty - it may have been early, but Galdin Quay was a luxury resort and staff worked around the clock. After several minutes and several impatient knocks on the counter, a young barista shambled over, her eyes red as if she’d been crying. Ignis supposed she must have been dumped by her boyfriend or some such and decided not to complain, but before he could open his mouth she spoke.

“I’m sorry, uh...for the wait. It’s just-” Ignis thought she might start weeping again, but the girl managed to keep it together. “My brother was in Insomnia. He was so excited about his new job in the city...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You just want your coffee, don’t you, sir?”

Ignis felt something churning in the pit of his stomach, the instinctive sense that something had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

“Has...something happened in Insomnia?”

The way the color drained from her face indicated he was right to fear asking the question.

“You don’t know?” she whispered. “Six, you’re not...are you from there?”

Ignis nodded, his bad feeling evolving into full-blown panic, but he managed to keep it inside. “What’s happened?” he demanded. The girl pointed a shaking finger at the newsstand next to the counter that had somehow managed to escape his notice during his quest for coffee. Ignis picked up the morning’s paper.

 _Insomnia Falls_. He blinked, adjusted his glasses, but the words remained. Beneath the headline was a photo of, presumably, a street in the city filled with rubble and covered with ash. The unmistakable red lights of Imperial craft were just visible through a thick shroud of smoke.

He collapsed onto the nearest stool, his mind racing to comprehend what was in front of him. _An Imperial invasion...the Treaty signing...a trap...King Regis dead_. Ignis looked back up at the barista and she nodded without a sound. _Yes, it’s real. It’s all real_.

“Keep it,” she said, gesturing at the newspaper. “And this is also on the house.” The steaming mug of coffee she placed before him had lost all its appeal, what with the massive lump forming in his throat.

His first instinct was to go and immediately wake the others, to let them know the horrible news, but he stopped himself from getting up. Let them - especially the Prince - get a few more hours of blissfully ignorant rest before the course of their lives was forever altered.

Instead, he got out his phone and dialed his uncle, then Valeria, then half a dozen other people he knew had been in the city last night. Each number went directly to voicemail. _Of course_ , he thought. Whether directly or through collateral damage, the Empire would have destroyed most of the cell phone towers serving the city.

That realization didn’t exactly ease his concerns, but for now, he had to believe they still lived. The Prince remained his priority, perhaps more than ever, for if they’d killed the King, the Imperials surely would not be content to just let his heir go on living. At least for Noctis, he could still do something, could still protect and comfort him.

 _Val_ , he thought, _be safe_. _Be strong_. All he could do for her now was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only managed to catch some clips of Kingsglaive online, so I hope this chapter jives with the fall of Insomnia as told in the film. I thought it would be interesting to see it from the perspective of a normal person on the ground, who has nothing to do with the political situation and no military/combat training.


	3. Chapter 3

Valeria awoke to white light in a white room, white noise buzzing in her ears. Her head felt as if it had been stuffed full of wool, her mouth dry, limbs heavy and uncoordinated.

“Come on.”

Something was prodding her in the ribs. Valeria turned ponderously onto her side, blinking at the fuzzy image in front of her until it materialized into a severe-looking woman wearing an impatient frown.

“What...?” Valeria licked her lips in an effort to get some moisture back into them. “Who...who are you?”

The woman ignored her question. “Get up. We’ve got people in way worse shape who need this bed.”

 _Way worse shape..._  The realization that she’d been shot slowly dawned on her, and Valeria looked down to see her left arm housed in a sling, the thick outline of bandages visible beneath the thin fabric of whatever she was wearing.

She turned back to the woman, finally noticing the red insignia of the Empire embroidered onto her white robes. Niffs.

“ _You_ patched me up?” she asked, incredulous. “But...you people shot me in the first place.”

The woman shrugged. “Just following orders.” She then forcibly hauled Valeria into a sitting position, holding her steady as a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame her, pain shooting through her left side.

“Let’s go,” the woman said again, pulling the thin sheet away. Valeria’s party dress and torn pantyhose were gone, replaced by a plain grey shift; her skin had been scrubbed clean, save a few places on her knees and in between her fingers where they hadn’t quite managed to remove all the soot and dust. She didn’t remember any of it. The night before (if it really was merely the night before) was a horrible blur of terror and confusion and gunsmoke.

“Mom...” Valeria whispered. The rest of it may have been hazy, but the image her of mother’s dead face, eyes unfocused and staring, jaw slack, was crystal clear.

“Report it to the missing persons table,” the woman said brusquely, grabbing Valeria by her good arm and pulling her to her feet. The woman, presumably some kind of medic, held her steady while she swayed, but there was no caring or compassion in her bearing, just the overwhelming impression of ‘I’m not getting paid enough to deal with this.’

Once she was satisfied that Valeria wasn’t going to keel over, she turned her to the right, pointing to a man sitting at a table at the end of several rows of makeshift infirmary beds.

“Pick up your things down there. Come back every other day to have your wounds cleaned. Stitches should come out in a week.” With that, the woman sent her off with a nudge, and Valeria stumbled down the row, wishing she could convince herself this was all some bizarre nightmare.

All the beds were occupied, as the miserable woman had said, with people who did indeed seem worse off than she was. Bandages soaked through with blood, moans and pleading, missing limbs and horrible burns. It seemed incomprehensible to her that the Niffs could just roll in and set up this giant medical tent to treat all these people like some kind of benevolent rescue, right after blowing them full of holes in the first place.

“ID number?” the man at the table barked when she approached. He didn’t even look up. _Number?_ Valeria didn’t know what he was talking about. “Uh...?”

The man made an exasperated noise and grabbed her right wrist, examining the plastic bracelet she hadn’t even noticed she was wearing until now. He mumbled the numbers to himself, then turned around and sifted through several large metal bins before handing her a small plastic bag.

Valeria opened it clumsily, using her right hand and her teeth, somewhat surprised to find her phone, real Lucian ID, and jewelry inside. Apparently her little wristlet had made it through the horror of the previous evening still attached to her arm.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked. She wasn’t even wearing shoes.

“Biohazard. All clothing items were burned,” the man said, going back to whatever he was working on before.

 _Biohazard?_ _Did I shit myself?_ Maybe she didn’t really want to know.

“Go through there,” the man pointed toward an open tent flap, “then around the right. The _vestitus_ will provide you with clothing.”

Valeria had so many questions, so many angry words for these people, but her mouth seemed incapable of forming them. She ended up doing as she was told, if only so she didn’t have to listen to the agonized cries from her injured countrymen.

Outside the tent, the wind whipped right through her thin garment and tangled hair, filling her nose with the smell of smoke and war. There were at least a dozen other large white tents like the one she had just exited, each bearing some sort of Imperial standard at their peak. Magitek troopers marched past her with a clatter, causing her heart to seize up in terror, but they paid her no mind and rounded the corner.

Valeria looked up, trying to catch her breath, and saw a handful of oblong, bronzed ships hovering above, spewing red-tinged exhaust into the Insomnian skyline. They must have been somewhere west of the Citadel, judging by the buildings that were still standing - perhaps in a park or athletic field.

After several minutes of trying to get a handle on things and failing, she eventually succumbed to the cold and saw the person for clothes, then bounced around from station to station for ration vouchers, bunk assignment, and directions to the showers and latrines. From scattered conversations, she realized it had only been a little less than twenty-four hours since the attack, and already all this was set up. It seemed the Niflheim Empire had invasions down to a science.

Part of her wondered why the Empire bothered with any of this at all, why they didn’t just take all the survivors out to some mass grave and shoot them. But Insomnia had its quirks, even moreso than other large cities after all those years of isolation, and the Niffs were nothing if not efficient. They’d get the subway back up and running a lot faster with the help of the people who built it.

Finally, she found herself at the last station, where an armored man (a real man, not a robot) lead her to one of several small tents and sat her down on a stool, opposite a desk and rather grandfatherly looking soldier, some kind of officer judging by the medals hanging off his chest. He was flanked by two magitek troopers who immediately set her ill at ease, their glowing, unblinking eyes piercing the gloom of the poorly lit space.

The man asked for her bracelet number just like all the rest, but then asked for her real name. Her immediate instinct was to lie, but they’d already gone through her things and seen her ID. It may very well have been some kind of test - this was clearly an interrogation.

“Valeria Soleil,” she said, eyes darting between the man as his pen scratched at a piece of paper and the unnaturally still automatons at his side.

“Age?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Occupation?”

“Vice-president of the Royal Energy Company.” That seemed to give the man pause for a moment, and she highly doubted it was because she seemed so young for such an important position. Maybe she should have lied.

“Were you acquainted with the Crown Prince, Noctis Lucis Caelum?”

 _So that’s what this is about_. She didn’t even bother asking if King Regis was dead; they wouldn’t have asked about the Prince first if the King were still alive. But that meant that Noctis - and therefore Ignis - must have escaped the Empire’s long-fingered grasp.

“Not really,” she lied. Well, mostly lied. She’d met the Prince on several occasions, and they’d been at the Academy at the same time (albeit in different grades), but her real connection to the royal family was Ignis, and the Empire would have to do a lot worse than a couple of magitek troopers before she gave him up.

The man tapped the paper with his pen. “Your position sounds rather prestigious. You’ve _never_ met the Crown Prince before?”

For the first time since she’d woken up, Valeria’s mind worked quickly, spinning out a response that held just enough truth to sound plausible, without giving up anything that would actually put Ignis and the rest in danger.

“Oh, we met once, at a party. He didn’t seem all that impressed.”

The man leaned forward. “And how did he seem?”

“Bored.”

“I see.” The man stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “What else do you know about him? Rumors, gossip, that sort of thing.”

“Only that he was supposed to marry the Oracle.” That was all anyone had been talking about for the last month. “...which I guess won’t happen now.”

“Any idea where he might go outside of the city? Again, rumors are fine.”

Valeria shrugged with one arm, mustering up the blankest expression she could conjure on her face. “No clue.”

The man stared at her for several agonizing seconds through narrowed eyes while she resisted the urge to squirm, to frown, to move at all.

“Any more questions for me?” she asked politely, like a person who wasn’t lying through her teeth.

“Ah... No, Miss Soleil,” he finally said. “You’re free to go.”

She probably should have exited right away, but couldn’t help herself. “What is going on here?”

“Imperial relief,” the man said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you did all this in the first place.”

He fixed her with a patronizing expression that made her feel about six years old and six inches tall. “An unfortunate deception,” he said. “But this is war, Miss Soleil. And in war, sometimes casualties are necessary.”

Now, her blank stare was real, no longer feigned. Valeria didn’t think the mechanical men at his side could have sounded any more dispassionate or cold.

“We are here to help you rebuild,” he went on. “I believe you will come to find that life under Imperial rule is much better than it was under your tyrant kings.”

Valeria glanced once more at the magitek, then rose from her seat. “I doubt it,” she said, and left.

She swallowed down the anger that bubbled within her, trying to keep her breathing even until she was out and well away from the vicinity of the tents. King Regis, a tyrant? That was rich, coming from a man who served an Emperor whose ambition spread the breadth of the globe.

Another breeze tore right through her, and she hugged her body with her right arm, shuddering as she recalled the way the empty eyes of the magitek troopers bored into her soul. _Ignis and the others are alive_ , she reminded herself. _The **King** is still alive_.

They didn’t end up like her mother. _Mom..._  She was too bewildered and dehydrated to cry. What had that woman medic said? Report to the missing persons table? Valeria’s mother wasn’t missing, but her body was. And while it was highly doubtful that the Niffs would allow her to give her mother any sort of proper burial, she wanted to rail at someone, to let them know what they’d done.

Following the signs posted around the camp, she migrated over that way, and found a large crowd of weary, dejected people dressed in the same drab, shapeless grey fatigues as she was. They were gathered around a large board of names, and every once in awhile someone would cry out, collapse to their knees, and shuffle away, all the hope sucked right out of them.

A list of the dead. A quick estimate told her there were nearly two hundred names listed, and she noticed an Imperial soldier push through the crowd to add several more. That was all they were to the Niffs - names on a board, ID numbers on bracelets, bodies in infirmary beds. They were _things_ , objects to be shuffled around and dealt with when they became too troublesome.

Valeria couldn’t help herself from scanning the list, horror mounting at the sheer number of names she recognized. People she went to school with. People she worked with. Her mother’s friends. They had all been at the Citadel, and the Citadel had apparently been one of the Empire's primary targets. She really didn’t have anyone left.

Across the way, there was another board where Lucians were pinning up names and photos of the missing. It was so strange to look at the images, smiling and carefree, knowing most of them were probably buried under rubble or lying back in that infirmary, bandaged and injured to the point of being unrecognizable. _How is this real?_ How was it that, at this time yesterday, her biggest concern was how to do her eye makeup in the poor light of her office bathroom?

Valeria bit her lip, clenched her fist, and approached the Niff who had been adding names to the list of dead.

“I need to report someone,” she said.

He jerked a thumb back toward the board of photographs. “Missing is over there.”

“She’s not missing,” Valeria hissed. “She’s dead. I watched you people kill her.”

If that bothered him, the man concealed it well. “Come with me.” The man led her to a table covered with stacks of large envelopes, each one neatly labeled.

“Gender was female?” the man asked.

“...Yes?” Valeria could only respond with bewildered confusion as the man briskly pushed away a little more than half of the envelopes, and continued to question her on her mother’s age, appearance, what she had been wearing, like some awful, morbid game of twenty questions. Eventually he laid a series of five or so photographs before her, of women who resembled her mother, all lying bloody and dead.

 _Mama..._  Valeria fingered the photo of her mother’s body wordlessly, reliving her death all over again. The smell of gunpowder and blood in her nostrils, impassive red eyes turning toward her in the fog, the sense of what it meant to be utterly powerless, useless and frightened and small.

“Miss?” The man was holding a form attached to a clipboard.

Whether out of compassion or just that damned Imperial efficiency, he took back the pen he had apparently placed in her trembling hand and completed the form for her, asking for her name to note who had identified the body. The photos were swiftly put away, her mother’s attached to the form, and that was that. Now, she was just another name on that ever-growing list.

“Here.” The man was holding a plastic bag similar to the one she’d collected at the infirmary.

“What?” Valeria frowned as she accepted it.

“The deceased’s effects.”

“Oh.” Valeria took it from the man, clutched it to her chest, and shuffled off, wanting to be rid of the wailing women and sobbing men all around her; she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it together, but she refused to cry in front of the Imperials. They may have broken her, but she didn’t want them to know it.

Eventually she made her way to her bunk, one of dozens of identical cots arranged in neat rows just like in the infirmary. Except here, the people weren’t injured or dying, merely hunched and defeated. She remembered reading about the Imperial invasion of Tenebrae when she was a girl, seeing the images in the newspaper and feeling a detached sort of pity, never once thinking it could happen to her and the invincible Crown City. _This is what it’s like_ , she thought. _What it’s like to feel like less than nothing_.

Several beds down from hers, she noticed a teenage boy unplugging the same brand of phone as hers from a charger.

“Can I use that?” she asked him. There were power stations scattered throughout the dormitory; momentarily, she was baffled, but then she understood. Who was anyone going to call that could make a difference? Lucis was the last major nation with any sort of sovereignty from the Empire. No one was coming to save them.

“Go for it,” the kid replied, eyes on the floor. “There’s no service though.”

Nonetheless, she plugged in her phone to charge, wondering if her father had even tried to get a hold of her, if he’d even heard the news. At least there was Ignis. He _would_ care, would be relieved to know she was still alive, even if he could do nothing about it. At the moment, surrounded by unfamiliar, downcast faces, the thought gave her little comfort.

Valeria sat down cross-legged on her cot and poured out the contents of her mother’s little bag, her last will and testament. She recognized the diamond earrings and bracelet her mother had been wearing the night before, vaguely surprised the Niffs hadn’t pocketed such expensive jewelry. There was also several hundred gil that had been secreted somewhere on her person, an old habit held over from her mother’s formative years in a rough neighborhood.

There was only one thing that seemed out of place - so out of place Valeria thought there must have been a mix-up somewhere in the Empire’s well-oiled invasion machine. It was a simple wedding band made out of dark metal, unadorned by any stones or carvings, save for the initials inscribed on the inside. Her parents’ initials. Valeria hadn’t seen this ring since she was ten years old, and thought her mother had trashed it after her father had ditched them.

 _Why?_ Valeria put the ring on the tip of her index finger and stared at it, as if she could divine its secrets. Her mother had rarely spoken of her father after he left, and never fondly, and yet...yet, she had not only kept the simple ring he’d saved up for months to buy her, but kept it on her person. _Did you still love him?_ _There’s no way..._  Valeria had always been under the impression that her mother had never finalized their divorce simply for financial reasons, not willing to cede half the company to a man who barely had two gil to rub together.

She laid back on her bunk, ring still on her finger, with the uncomfortable realization that maybe she’d never understood her mother at all. And now that she was gone, Valeria never would.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly two days after hearing the terrible news about Insomnia that Ignis’s phone finally rang. Groggy with sleep, it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t his alarm, that it was still pitch dark in the group’s shared tent. He retrieved the phone from under his pillow and immediately silenced the ringer, squinting to make out the name on the display without his glasses. The letter V...

He was out of his sleeping bag and unzipping the tent flap in the space of a heartbeat.

“Val?” He’d meant to whisper, but his voice came out louder than intended. He quickly exited the tent and closed the flap behind him. “Valeria?”

There was a shaky breath on the other end of the line before she spoke. “Ignis.” Her voice was small, quiet and subdued, not like herself at all. But it _was_ her. She was alive. That was all that mattered.

“Val, thank the Six,” he allowed himself, before shifting into royal chamberlain mode. “Where are you? Are you safe? Are you hurt?”

“Iggy...?”

Ignis took a deep breath and forced himself to stop pacing around what was left of the campfire. She’d survived the razing of their home; assaulting her with questions would accomplish nothing.

“Forgive me,” he said. _First things first_. “Are you somewhere safe?”

“I...I don’t know. I...the Niffs brought me back to the city.”

“You’re in Insomnia?” Any relief Ignis felt at hearing her voice was rapidly evaporating.

“They...uh, the Empire, they rounded us all up and brought us to some kind of shelter. They say they want to help.” Valeria sounded as skeptical of that as Ignis felt. “And they were asking a lot of questions about _you_. Well, the Prince.”

Ignis frowned. That much was expected. But it was still unsettling to hear that the Empire was already questioning every Insomnian citizen on Noctis’s whereabouts.

“We’re taking extra precautions,” he said. The last thing she needed to worry about was him. “I know I needn’t tell you to be careful-”

“But you’re going to anyway.”

“But I’m going to anyway. No matter what they say, the Empire can’t be trusted.”

“No shit, Iggy.” Valeria sighed. “I’m sorry. I just...I’m scared.”

Those words were like a dagger to his heart. Ignis balled his fist and began pacing once more in an attempt to channel his frustration.

“ _I_ am sorry. I wish...”

“ _Don’t_ , Iggy. Please.”

After a few seconds of trying to get his emotions under control, he asked, “Are you by yourself?” He hoped she had found her mother at the very least, that she wasn’t entirely alone.

There was a pause and then a choked sob, the sound settling in his gut like ice. “They _shot_ her,” Valeria wailed. “They killed her. She, she...she wasn’t even doing anything, she...she...”

Ignis knew Valeria was talking about her mother. He sank down in one of the camping chairs, still circled around the dying fire.

“Val, I...I am so sorry,” he said impotently, listening to her crying on the other end of the line.

This sense of utter powerlessness was sickening, debilitating. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be fine, but it wasn’t going to be fine. Even if they managed to gather all the Royal Arms, if Noctis somehow managed to retake his throne, it wouldn’t make her mother any less dead.

And never had he felt more keenly aware of the burden of his duty; his heart was being pulled in two opposite directions, being ripped apart at the center. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do.

Helping Noctis take down the Empire might save her in the long run, but for tonight, he could do nothing but sit and listen to her cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You hear a lot on the radio about the Imperial occupation/relief of Insomnia, but never really get to see it in the game, so I thought that would be something to explore in this story while also fleshing out the character of Valeria. Sorry there isn't more Ignis in this chapter! I'm not interested in rewriting anything that happens onscreen, and pretty much everything the bros are up to at this point is shown in-game. I promise there will be a lot more Ignis coming soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a couple of days after the first boss fight with Loqi. Originally, I assumed he died when his mech blew up, but apparently not, since he's an optional boss in a later mission.

“ _Ow_ ,” Valeria hissed.

The young medicus-in-training jerked his hand away from her stitches, and his supervisor clucked her tongue.

“You have to leave the antiseptic on for at least five seconds,” the supervisor said. “Regardless of the patient’s complaints.”

“S-sorry,” the trainee stammered out, although it was unclear to whom he was apologizing. He placed the medicine-soaked cloth back over the stitches just below the hollow of Valeria’s shoulder, and she girded herself against the sharp, stinging sensation suddenly radiating from her wound, while the trainee audibly counted to five. The Empire must have found that Insomnian refugees made the perfect subjects for training new recruits; the Niffs barely saw them as people, after all.

“Now, examine the integrity of the stitches,” the supervisor instructed. When the trainee medicus leaned in for a closer look, Valeria purposely clutched the sheet covering her breast a bit closer to her chest, causing the young man to blush profusely. Making Niffs uncomfortable, no matter how moderately, had been her sole means of entertainment these past five days since they invaded.

“Have you been using your arm?” The supervisor asked, almost accusatory.

“I’m trying not to, but it’s a little hard to get dressed,” Valeria admitted.

“Well, get someone to help you,” the senior medicus replied. “A couple of these stitches are close to tearing.”

“It’s kind of difficult to find help when you killed pretty much everyone I know.” Valeria glared at the older woman, daring her to look away first.

Someone suddenly shouted something about an officer, and then all the Imperials in the infirmary tent were on their feet, snapped to attention, the trainee a beat behind the rest. A blonde-haired man in a black breastplate with a large bandage covering the lower-right half of his face limped through, heavily favoring his right leg. Valeria assumed he was there for treatment, but he seemed to be questioning people, eventually stomping his way over to her.

“Valeria Soleil?” he asked, reading from a clipboard supplied by one of two soldiers flanking him.

This time, Valeria’s attempt to better cover herself was involuntary. _They know you’ve been talking to Ignis_ , she thought, panic flooding her every synapse.

“I...” Fright had rendered her mind useless as she searched for a response, something - anything - to get her out of this.

“That’s correct, sir,” the medicus supervisor said, attempting to hand the officer Valeria’s medical file. He waved her off. Valeria wanted to take the sheet she was using to cover herself and strangle the woman with it.

“You ran the power company?” The officer asked, still looking at his clipboard.

“Uh...yes?” Valeria answered uncertainly. What did _that_ have to do with Ignis and the Prince?

“Good. Meet me outside when you’re done here.” The officer turned, dragging his bad leg toward the tent entrance, while Valeria goggled at his back. _What the hell_?

“I’ll finish here,” the supervisor said, quickly grabbing clean bandages to cover Valeria’s stitches.

“Who is that?” Valeria asked, as if learning the man’s name would somehow allow her to make sense of the situation. If she was in trouble, if they suspected she knew Noctis’s whereabouts, certainly they wouldn’t be acting so casual. Would they?

“Someone important,” the senior medicus snapped, pressing the adhesive of the dressings into place.

“Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt,” the trainee said, adding, “Uh, I think,” when both Valeria and his supervisor stared at him.

“Hurry up,” the supervisor barked, unceremoniously tearing the sheet away from Valeria’s chest as the trainee went bright red. _I’m wearing a bra, you fool_ , she thought, and the supervisor more or less shoved her shirt back over her head.

With her clothes back on and her left arm once again secured in that Gods forsaken sling, Valeria was left with a choice: she could leave via the opposite exit of the tent and run...and run and run and run, somehow find a way to escape the city and survive the wilderness of Leide with no supplies and one working arm. Or, she could do as instructed and meet the officer outside. _He’s injured too_ , she reminded herself - barely able to walk from the looks of it. If something was amiss, she could still make her escape.

Valeria took a deep breath and stepped outside. The officer and his two lackeys were indeed waiting for her; the two soldiers’ faces were concealed behind polished helmets, but in the morning sun, she noticed that the officer was incredibly young - almost certainly younger than herself.

“What’s this about?” she asked, careful to stay out of his arms’ reach.

“Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt,” the officer said, briskly affecting an Imperial salute. “We need your help re-establishing power to the city.”

 _The power_. Valeria’s relief was so immense she nearly snorted with laughter. “Why in the hell would I ever help _you_?”

Loqi seemed prepared for the question. “If we can re-establish power to the residential districts, then most of the people here can go home. You’re helping them, not me.”

 _Home_. The word hung in the air, shimmering and enticing, just out of reach. “Downtown?” she ventured, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

“Only some outlying neighborhoods,” Loqi said, his expression impassive to her plight. “The city center’s too badly damaged to let anyone inside.”

 _Dammit_. Still, she could hardly say no to helping her fellow Lucians. “It’s going to take a lot more than me to get the reactor working.”

Loqi shook his head and then grimaced, as if it caused him pain. “We just need to tap into the power grid - our magitek generators will supply the energy. I was hoping you could give us the master plans.”

“They were in company headquarters, which were downtown. Backup copies were in my mother’s townhouse, which was also downtown.” Valeria glanced at his right leg. “We could still search for them in the rubble, I guess.”

“Crap,” he muttered, almost petulantly, finally betraying his young age.

Valeria smirked, tapping the side of her head. “Fortunately for you, I’ve got about seventy-five percent of it up here.”

“You do?” Loqi’s blue eyes went wide. Bandage on his jaw aside, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy, although the baby-face look was decidedly not her type.

“The primary substations, anyway. Which is what you need access to.”

“Here.” Loqi handed Valeria the clipboard. It held a map of Insomnia with her name and ID number scribbled in the top corner. There was a circle around the downtown area of the city that included the Citadel, the rest broken up into numbered quadrants. “We need to restore power to One and Two.” He indicated the western half of the city with a pen.

Valeria plucked the writing instrument from his gloved hand and began to roughly draw in the actual city sectors to the best of her memory. There were six within the area Loqi had indicated.

“Wait, this doesn’t even make sense,” he said, frowning at the map. “This one is so small, and then this area is huge...”

Valeria wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. _Don’t quit your day job, kid_. “It’s based on power consumption, not geography. So, the small area here is the manufacturing district, and then this large one is mostly parks.”

“Huh...” Loqi studied the map for a few more seconds before breaking into a grin, made rather lopsided by the bandage covering half his jaw. “Looks like you just won me five hundred gil, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Got a bet with my lieutenant, who’s been put in charge of sanitation. To see who could get their part up and running first.”

Valeria narrowed her eyes. A _bet_ ? She wanted to slap him right in his damned wound. _I’m glad this is fun for you_.

“First of all,” she looked Loqi in the eye, “Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ I’m not _that_ much older than you. Second...” _People’s lives are not a game_. Rather than speak her mind, she forced herself to return his smirk. “Sanitation can’t run without power. You play dirty, Brigadier General.” The playful, almost flirtatious tone of her voice made Valeria herself feel ill. But that old adage about catching more flies with honey usually held true.

They prioritized the residential sectors, and then she accompanied Loqi on one of those big, inelegant-looking transport ships to a large, working-class neighborhood just south of the Imperial camp. To Valeria’s great dismay, a cadre of magitek troopers followed them down the empty street.

“What are _those_ for?” Valeria could swear she felt the muzzles of the rifles trained on her back, but every time she turned around, the MTs held their guns at inattention, ignoring her completely.

“Daemons,” Loqi said, wincing with every slow step.

She opened her mouth to say there were no daemons in the Crown City, not outside of photos and old men’s stories...but that was no longer true. The King’s magic had protected them, and the King was gone. _Damn you all_.

“Do you really think there are daemons here?” she said instead. The sun was still hanging fat and bright above them.

“Better to be safe than sorry. And,” there was a definite note of frustration in Loqi’s voice, “it’s going to be a little while before I’m in fighting shape again.”

“So, you’re usually on the front lines,” she ventured.

“I was stationed at the Norduscaen Blockade,” he said. “Now, I’m stuck here until my wounds heal.”

“I see.” Valeria turned this information over in her mind. It wasn’t surprising that the Empire would reassign an injured officer to administrative tasks; what _was_ noteworthy was that he wasn’t comfortably ensconced behind a desk somewhere, but instead dragging his injured leg all over the city. It wasn’t just a reassignment - it was a punishment. _The blockade must have fallen then_ , she thought. Valeria hadn’t heard anything about it, but then, the refugee camp was rife with misinformation anyway: half the people believed the official word that Prince Noctis was dead, while the other half insisted that King Regis was holed up in the city somewhere, waiting to launch his counterstrike.

 _So, I’ve got a young officer fresh off a major failure_. She’d have to play this carefully - very carefully - but she had every confidence she could, in fact, play him like a deck of cards.

 

* * *

 

Valeria accompanied Loqi to a working-class neighborhood just South of the Imperial camp and showed him to the power substation located underground along the subway line, scratching out a bunch of calculations to determine just how much energy the Empire’s magitek generators would need to produce to properly supply the area. Her phone had been vibrating almost non-stop in her pocket; Ignis, she suspected, but could hardly take a call from the Prince’s retainer with an Imperial officer looking over her shoulder. When she at last returned to her bunk, she finally went to check her phone, but was interrupted by a now-familiar voice.

“You were gone for a long time.”

Valeria stuck her phone back in her pocket and turned to face Felix, the kid who’d lent her his phone charger that first day, sitting cross-legged on his cot. After noticing his Academy uniform jacket, she’d struck up a friendship of sorts with the young teen - he didn’t say much, spent most of the day glued to games on his phone, but she could hardly blame him for that. Valeria didn’t ask, but it was obvious he was every bit as alone as she was, his parents likely killed in the invasion along with her mother.

“Trying to help get the power back on, so we can all go home.” Valeria tried to give him her best smile, although she wasn’t certain it was very convincing. She no longer had a home to return to, and he probably didn’t either.

“You wanna play King’s Knight later?” she asked. Felix shrugged. They’d already played a few times, and Valeria had purposely played her bad cards, letting him win. She decided to take his ambivalent gesture as tacit assent.

“I just have to make a phone call, then we can play,” she said, going back to her own cot to sit down. She pulled out her phone and hunched over to obscure the screen from any prying eyes.

Six missed calls from...Dad. _Dad_. She exhaled in irritation. _Took you long enough_. Bracing herself for his incoming bullshit, she dialed him back.

“Hello? _Hello_?” Panic was evident in her father’s voice, and she might have even felt sorry for him if it hadn’t taken him five damn days to check in on her.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Oh, honey...” Her father let out a long sigh of relief. “I was so worried about you! Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Dad, it’s been five days,” Valeria said.

“I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry. My girlfriend and I were out camping and I only just heard the news. You’re not hurt, are you?”

 _Girlfriend_. The word made Valeria want to vomit. _How old is she this time?_ The last one had been closer to Valeria’s age than her father’s.

“Mom’s dead,” she said flatly.

“Oh, I...” her father went very quiet. “I... I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”

“Are you?” Valeria snapped, her free hand balling into a fist, causing her wounded shoulder to twinge. _Now you can marry your damned_ _girlfriend_.

“Valeria, you know things were complicated with me and your mother, but this... This is terrible.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t try to keep the resentment from her voice. How could her mother have still cared about this guy? “Sorry to bum you out on your date.”

“Valeria, don’t be like that. I know you’re upset-”

“I watched them _shoot_ her,” Valeria said through clenched teeth. “Where were you? _Why weren’t you here_?”

“Sweetie...”

Valeria felt her tears, hot and salty, rolling down her cheeks. _Why did you leave me_?

“I’m going to hop on the next ferry to Galdin and come get you,” her father went on. “Can you meet me there?”

“No.” Valeria swiped her face with the back of her hand and placed the phone back to her ear. “Don’t bother.”

“You can stay with us in Accordo. You’ll be safe here.”

 _Us_. He was talking about his girlfriend - whoever she was this time. The woman he’d been shacking up with when her mother was killed. She'd rather take her chances with the Niffs.

“I’m fine,” Valeria said. “I don’t need your help.”

Her father let out a long sigh. “If that’s what you want...” It only made her angrier that he acquiesced immediately, that he didn’t insist on rescuing her - like a father _should_. “But if you change your mind, I’ll come for you.”

He was about ten years too late for that.

 

* * *

 

Ignis stood on the balcony of the Amicitia’s suite at the Leville, the scorching temperature in Lestallum finally having dropped to something bearable after the sun set. Upbeat music from a pickup band in the street below drifted up to where he stood, mingling with the sound of Iris, Prompto, and Noctis talking inside the hotel room. Gladiolus sat on the bed opposite them, browsing the sort of magazine one should probably _never_  look at in front of one’s sister (“The articles are really well-written, Iggy”).

A happy enough scene now, but there was still an edge to Noctis’s voice, and several hours earlier, when Ignis had settled into the bath, he’d overheard Iris crying to Gladio about their father’s apparent death in the adjacent room.

 _We’ve all put on our brave faces_ , Ignis thought, leaning against the exterior wall of the suite and staring up at the stars. It was something he liked to do when he had a free moment at home - stand on the small terrace of his apartment, take a few deep breaths, and gaze up at the heavens, reminding himself that the world was much wider than himself, the Prince, and the Crown city. He missed home, missed the familiar comfort of his own apartment and his own bed, missed the familiar rhythm of running errands for Noctis throughout the day.

Now, it was all gone. That life was as dead as their late King, as ruined as their once great city. And this sort of wistful dwelling on the past would accomplish nothing, would not aid Noctis in his upcoming fight. Ignis turned to rejoin the group when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

 _Valeria_. If there had been _any_ way for him to get her safely out of Insomnia, he would have taken off right then and driven through the night (as much as he hated doing that) to retrieve her. But his duty came first.

“Iggy?” Valeria sounded a bit more like herself, much to his relief, but there was a definite tension in her voice, a hesitation that instantly concerned him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.  _Aside from the obvious_.

There was a long sigh on the other end of the line. “I guess there’s no nice way to put this... Your uncle’s dead. I’m sorry, Iggy.”

Ignis inhaled sharply, his free hand tightening on the railing. In his heart, he’d known this all along, since he first heard of the attack. Even so...

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For letting me know.”

“I’m sorry,” Valeria said again.

 _Uncle_... He had been the closest thing Ignis had to a father, at least that he could clearly recall, and yet all Ignis could feel at his passing was a vague sense of emptiness. Perhaps, with all the terrible news of the last week, he’d simply become numb to grief.

Still, he was eternally grateful to his uncle for taking him in after his parents had died and raising him, perhaps not exactly as a son, but the man had done the best he could with a child he’d never asked for. _Uncle...thank you_.

“Iggy? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” It was more than half a lie. “How are you bearing up?”

“Fair, I guess. I’m bored out of my mind,” she said, her tone shifting to something more casual. “And my stitches are starting to drive me nuts.”

Ignis’s head snapped up. “Stitches? You’re injured?”

“Oh.” Valeria let out a sheepish laugh. “I guess I forgot to say. It doesn’t really hurt anymore, just itches like crazy.”

“Valeria.” Ignis assumed the tone that always sent Noctis and Prompto running, the one that even Gladiolus didn’t try to argue with.

It worked on her too. He didn’t even have to speak his question aloud. “I... I got shot. The night they attacked.”

Ignis’s eyes went wide, the ground lurched under his feet. “They _shot_ you?” _Those bloody Niff bastards_.

“Shot me, and then patched me up. I still don’t get what they’re playing at.”

Ignis was still fixated on the fact that she’d been hurt. _Shot_ , for Gods’ sakes. “Where?”

“It was through the muscle,” she explained. “Just below my collar bone. No lasting damage, I don’t think.”

“Gods damn it,” he growled. He knew it was impolite to curse in front of a lady, but couldn't help himself. ‘No lasting damage’ didn’t erase the fact that the Niffs had tried to kill her.

“I’m fine, Iggy. Obviously,” Valeria said. “Like I said, it’s really more annoying than anything.”

He shook his head, rage swelling behind his eyelids. “They’ll pay for this, Valeria. I swear to you.” For hurting her, killing her mother, his uncle, their King. For everything.

“How very gallant.” There was a playful edge to her voice, one he was well familiar with, although he wasn’t sure if it was at his expense this time.

“I’m serious, Val.”

“I know you are. Let me help.”

Ignis blinked. “What?”

“Let me help you,” she repeated. “I’m here with _them_. I can gain their trust, listen in on their plans. I’ve already been working on one-”

“No,” Ignis interrupted her, adamantly shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “That’s too dangerous.”  _You’ve already been shot_.

“Dammit, Ignis. You’re not the only one who wants revenge.”

Ignis began to pace the little balcony. The woman could be bloody stubborn when she wanted to be - usually an admirable quality, but not when her well-being was at stake. “No, but I’ve trained for this.”

“And I haven’t? Half of my job was telling people what they wanted to hear.”

“Your life wasn’t on the line.” She wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Give me the Prince’s phone number, then. I’ll deal with him directly.”

 _Blast it_ , Ignis thought. Did she really just ask to speak to his manager? “You’re bloody impossible, do you know that?”

Valeria scoffed. “Look who’s talking. Listen - I’m going to do this, with or without your ‘permission.’ A little direction, however, would be nice.”

Ignis took a deep breath, trying to stem his annoyance. “I... I _need_ you to be safe. Please understand that.” He may have prepared himself for the news about his uncle, but her...just contemplating that possibility left him shaking.

“I know, Iggy,” she said softly. “Just trust me to know what I’m doing, okay?”

He knew her verbal tricks well enough to recognize when she was using one on him - playing dirty, as it were. “Very well.” To respond with anything else would have been insulting. “Allow me to get back to you with ‘instructions.’”

After repeatedly begging Valeria to be careful and bidding her a good night, Ignis returned the phone to his pocket and rested his elbows on the balcony railing, hanging his head. _Uncle_...

Out of their entire group, it seemed only Prompto had emerged from Nifleheim’s attack without losing someone in his family. He said his parents had made it out of the city in the evacuation and made for Accordo immediately.

If only Valeria had escaped as well. Ignis understood her need to be useful all too well, to be actively working toward some sort of goal, but he couldn’t help feeling that she was dangerously out of her depth. The Empire had proven their capacity for treachery and duplicity extended far beyond any of their worst assumptions.

“Yo, Specs.” Ignis turned to see Noctis sliding the suite’s balcony door closed behind him.

“Another headache?” Ignis asked.

Noctis shook his head. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Ignis replied automatically.

Noctis cocked his head and arched an eyebrow; the expression was as good as ordering Ignis to speak his mind.

“I...” It took more effort than he expected to keep his voice level. “I’ve just received word that my uncle was killed during the invasion.”

Noctis ground his teeth and joined Ignis in leaning over the balcony railing. “...Dammit,” he murmured. After a while, he added, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Noct.” Ignis knew the attack on Insomnia was weighing heavily on the Prince’s conscience, and the last thing he wanted was to add to that burden.

“It was my _dad’s_ ,” Noctis replied petulantly.

“No,” Ignis corrected him once more. “The blame for all of this falls solely on the Empire.”

“Yeah, but he knew!” Noctis shouted. Behind them, Ignis could see Iris and Prompto freeze in their conversation, peering out through the glass door. He held up a hand to indicate that everything was fine. “He knew, dammit,” the Prince went on, muttering. “He knew people would die.”

Ignis sighed, knowing that one day King Noctis Lucis Caelum might very well face a similar impossible decision. And though it would be Ignis’s job to advise him on such matters, it wasn’t the same as actually having to make the call.

“Why did he only try to protect _me_? My life isn’t worth more than your uncle’s, or Gladio’s dad, or anyone else...” Noctis said quietly, his knuckles going white as he gripped the railing.

Ignis frowned. “Unfortunately, that’s simply not true.” When Noctis turned to glare at him, he explained. “Only your line can collect the Royal Arms and wield the power of the Crystal. And, in a more practical sense, the Crown Prince serves as a rallying point for our fractured kingdom. A light in the darkness, as it were.”

Noctis’s scowl deepened. “I don’t want to be ‘more important’ than anyone else.”

“A testament to how well your father raised you, I think,” Ignis said. “I’m sure there have been many princes who felt quite the opposite.”

In response, Noctis sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes.

“Noct, we _all_ want to go home,” Ignis said softly. “We all want to wake up to find this was a terrible dream. But we owe it to those who perished to persevere, to take back what was lost. Whether we like it or understand it is of little consequence.”

Noctis’s shoulders slumped. “Dammit, Specs. You always gotta be right, don’t you?” he lamented.

“My speciality.” Ignis forced a small smile. “But just because you’re moving forward doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel things along the way, you know. A king is just a man, after all.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said, staring at his shoes. “Definitely feeling the ‘just a man’ part lately.”

Ignis put his hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I’m with you, Noct. To the very end.” _No matter where my heart is pulling me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I hope I'm writing Loqi okay...considering he has, like, three lines total in the game, I'm kind of winging it here with his personality. I wanted to have some familiar faces in the Insomnia segments of the story, so I'm appropriating Loqi (and some others later on) in a way that (hopefully) still fits with the canon.
> 
> I wish I could update more than just once a week, but I write kind of slowly, and wanted to pick a schedule I knew I could stick with. Hopefully the long chapters make up for it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on his accent in the English version of the game, I headcanon that Ignis is originally of noble birth from Tenebrae, and was taken in by his uncle and moved to Lucis after his parents passed away when he was very young. Normally, I wouldn't try to foist my headcanons on you in a 'canon-compliant' story, but I like to think the background I've come up with for him informs a lot of his character (to be meted out throughout the story), and him being of foreign extraction is actually going to be plot relevant later on.

One would think that encountering not one, but _two_  Gods in the span of a week would prove a sufficient distraction, but for Ignis, such a spectacle - awe-inspiring though it was - apparently wasn’t enough to cause him to forget his troubles. In the moment, he’d stared slack-jawed at the colossi along with the others, but when it was quiet (‘quiet’ being a relative term with Prompto around), when some mythical being wasn’t trying to crush them like insects, his mind immediately wandered back to Valeria in Insomnia. Was she safe? Was her wound healing properly? And, perhaps most importantly, was she completely and utterly miserable?

Ignis suspected he already knew the answer to that. She’d lost virtually everything, been shot, watched as her mother was killed, and was now effectively stranded and _alone_ with the villains who’d done it all to her. Every time he thought of her, stuck with those devils, his world went a darker shade of red.

And even all of that was preferable to his dreams. At least when he was awake, he could take out his anger on the Imperials that seemed to dog their every step. In the ruined landscape of his mind, he was helpless, powerless as Valeria regarded him, her face streaked with ash and stained with tears. One hand clutched the wound at her shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers. Every night he called out to her as she turned to disappear in the haze. And every night she stood there waiting for him, blood sliding down her arm and pooling at her feet, as the words caught in his throat.

“I want...” Why could he never finish that sentence? Eventually, unable to remain any longer, Valeria would vanish into the fog. And then, having lost her, Ignis would wake up.

Despite sleeping like a rock (a very loud, snoring rock), Gladiolus must have noticed Ignis’s restlessness, asking him about it one early morning at camp when they were en route to retrieve the Regalia from filching Imperial hands.

“Hey.” Gladiolus elbowed Ignis as he prepared breakfast - eggs, prairie sausage, toast, and, of course, coffee. “You alright?” The larger man began to break down the campsite, despite Noctis and Prompto remaining asleep in the tent. “Not trying to get into your business or anything,” he added. “Noct, uh, told me about your uncle.”

Ignis’s hand clenched the spatula as he flipped the toast. “He...” He took a breath, trying to figure out exactly what he was trying to say. “Perishing in service to the King...if he had to go, I suppose that’s the way he would’ve wanted.”

Something akin to a growl escaped Gladio’s throat. “I _know_ that’s what my old man wanted, but...shit.” He kicked a bit of dirt over the fire, even though it had clearly been extinguished some time in the night. “It doesn’t make this any easier.”

“It certainly does not,” Ignis replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “How is Iris faring?” She’d seemed cheerful enough when they met with her in Lestallum, but Ignis understood masking one’s emotions for the good of the group all too well.

“She’s pretty tough,” Gladiolus said, somewhat proudly. “But, yeah. It’s been hard on her. Hard on all of us.”

Ignis removed the sausage from the skillet and began to crack eggs over the pan. “My uncle was a good man.” He had never been liberal with praise, but Ignis had always done his best to please him, to prove he wasn’t a useless wastrel like his late father.

“Dad was too,” Gladiolus said quietly. “We’re gonna get the sons of bitches, Iggy.” He met Ignis’s gaze, fire and determination swirling in his dark eyes. “This ain’t over. Not ‘til we say it is.”

 

* * *

 

Ignis had tasked Valeria with determining exactly where the Empire had taken the Crystal - and for what purpose, if there was one outside of insatiable greed. He’d explained to her about the Prince’s quest to gather the weapons of his ancestors and receive the blessings of the Astrals; the strength of Gods she could understand, but what good were a bunch of weapons without an army to wield them? There was power in the Caelum bloodline, power Valeria knew she didn’t understand, so she had to trust Ignis when he told her that the Royal Arms would help them drive the Empire out of Insomnia for good.

Valeria had poked around enough to learn that most of the Niffs weren’t privy to the level of secrecy under which the Crystal was classified, but in spite of that - or perhaps exactly _because_ of that - it seemed every last one of them had developed a theory.

“The Emperor’s making it into a throne,” one of the relief workers said to another as Valeria picked up her daily breakfast ration.

“That’s too much work,” the other responded. “He’s just going to display it in the throne room.”

“Since when does the Emperor care about ‘too much work?’” the first said with a laugh.

Most of the speculation was nonsense like that. She could very well be wrong, but Valeria thought the haste with which he’d extracted the relic seemed to indicate he was interested in it as more than a trophy.

Wrinkling her nose at the gray lump that was supposed to be her meal, Valeria took a seat opposite Felix at one of the fold-out aluminum tables in the mess tent. The first few days, it had been so crowded that they had to eat in shifts, but now there were more empty seats than occupied ones. People had gone back to their homes - in part, thanks to her. They still had to wait in line for food and medicine and such, but they could return to the familiar comfort of their own private space, wearing their own clothes, sleeping in their own beds. Empire patrols were apparently constant, day and night, in the restored neighborhoods, but part of her couldn’t help but wonder - and fear - if what the old officer had said to her on that first day was true: life wouldn’t be so different under Imperial rule.

During the day, the Niffs allowed people to come and go from the relief area freely, but that wasn’t true for all of Insomnia - all of downtown was blocked off, as were all major routes out of the city. ‘For safety,’ they said. Valeria had her doubts, especially considering people like Loqi Tummelt were apparently able to come and go freely.

She poked at the bland mush she’d been served, forcing herself to eat a few bites. It had all the flavor and appeal of sawdust, but - as with all things from Niflheim - had been carefully engineered and calibrated to deliver the appropriate level of nutrients per serving. Felix had barely touched his, despite being at the age where boys could seemingly eat without end. He had his nose buried in his phone, as usual, chimes and beeps echoing from the device as he played a game that made her feel old just asking about.

“Why didn’t you leave?” he asked suddenly, eyes never straying from the screen.

“I can’t,” Valeria replied, grimacing as she forced down a mouthful of the gelatinous gruel. “Niffs want me to ‘stay close’ until they get all the power restored.” Not that she had a home to return to anyway.

“You...” this time Felix did venture a glance at her before returning to his game. “You’re not _with_ them, right?”

Valeria frowned. It hadn’t escaped her notice the way people looked at her every time she left or returned in the company of an Imperial officer. “I just want to make it so that everyone can go home.”

Felix nodded, giving her something that almost looked like a smile, and their conversation lapsed into a familiar silence. After finishing about half of the ration she’d been given, Valeria pushed it away, unable to stomach any more of the stuff.

“Do you have any family outside the city, Felix?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Felix shrugged, as predicted, but then he spoke. “They don’t talk to us. They, um, don’t like my mom.”

Valeria wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that his family would be happy to hear from him, to know he was still alive. But she knew how this sort of thing went, had seen it play out at least a dozen times with her peers. Some perceived slight over money or favor, choosing the wrong woman or man, and the grudge was cast for life. And the older and more privileged the family, the more stubborn and prideful they were.

“Reaching out might be worth a try,” was the best she could say without feeling like she was deceiving him. Felix’s phone suddenly beeped with a sound she did recognize, the tone signalling a low battery.

“Crap,” he said, “Gotta go charge.”

“I left the cord all wound up for you in the usual spot.” Valeria rose to her feet and grabbed her plate. “I suppose I should go see what the Brigadier General has to say for himself today.” Loqi had asked her to meet him at the entrance to the camp this morning. “See you later, kid.”

“See ya,” Felix said with a wave.

Valeria tossed the rest of her breakfast in the trash and exited the tent, rolling her shoulder as she made her way through the maze of tents. Her stitches had come out several days earlier and she’d been cleared to use her left arm, but the muscles in her chest and shoulder were stiff and achy.

The infirmary tent had since been packed up and gone, replaced with something more akin to a small first-aid station. Most of the severely injured had died; those who still clung to life had been moved to a real building in one of the restored neighborhoods.

The list of the dead had more than doubled in size - nearly four hundred names were listed now - a small percentage of Insomnia’s total population, but the vast majority of the city’s leaders were gone. Identifying the body of Ignis’s uncle had been worse than her mother in some ways; she’d met the man a handful of times, but had no real connection to him outside of his nephew, which meant that she was only able to provide the Niff in charge with vague details. She’d ended up sorting through piles and piles of photos of dead men: some so serene they could almost be mistaken for sleeping, others with their faces frozen in a rictus of silent, final horror. When she’d finally happened upon the late elder Scientia, she found him looking relatively peaceful, eyes open but face slack, blood leaking from his nose onto his graying mustache. For his sake, and Ignis’s, she hoped it was quick.

She was halfway back to the entrance when Loqi Tummelt found her.

“Miss Soleil,” he said with a nod, the smile on his face most likely due to locating her and not friendliness. After working with him for the past week, she wouldn’t say Loqi exactly _liked_ her, but he seemed to respect her, and - most importantly - trust the version of herself that she’d sold him.

“Brigadier General,” she replied. “You have work for me today, right?”

“The engineers got the generator all set to your specifications for Sector Two. We just need you to do your thing.” They’d already made the rounds in ‘Sector One’ - despite Valeria writing down the actual names of all the districts, Loqi and the other Niffs still insisted on referring to the areas by their numerical designations.

Loqi still had his limp as she followed him out of the camp, but it was far less pronounced and seemed to be causing him significantly less pain. There were still a few small band-aids on his jaw, but the large bandage was gone, revealing smooth, pink scars. They looked slight and narrow, like they’d disappear entirely in time, unlike the knotty, red oval on her shoulder. That might have bothered her once, in another life, but after watching her mother die, after sorting through all those terrible photos of dead men, getting off with a rough scar and a bit of soreness seemed like a blessing.

She and Loqi met his soldiers in what used to be an athletic field; the Niffs now used the wide, flat space to land their transport ships. He barked orders to some of his subordinates and then they were off in the transport, touching down after ten minutes or so in the designated area.

Someone of Loqi Tummelt’s rank might actually possess the information on the Crystal that she sought, or at the very least, provide a more educated guess than the relief workers, but Valeria was still waiting for an opening to come up organically in conversation so as not to arouse any suspicions. To go along with that, she’d been presenting herself as generally nosy as they made their rounds installing the magitek generators into the existing power grid.

“So,” Valeria said as they walked down the empty street. “Is your dad a bigshot in the military? Or, uh...a Duke?” She couldn’t quite recall the ranks of the Imperial nobility; that sort of thing was more Ignis’s area of expertise.

Loqi shot her a glare that said far more than any verbal response while the awful magitek troopers settled into formation behind them.

“Hey. I’m not judging you,” she went on. “I got my job because of nepotism. I’m very _good_ at my job, but they don’t usually hand out executive positions to twenty year-olds.”

Loqi shot her another look before turning back to the road and muttering, “Earl.”

“What?”

“My father’s an Earl.”

Valeria merely nodded in response. The son of a nobleman who’d likely had everything handed to him his entire life - not unlike most of the people she’d gone to school with. The more she searched for a reason to hate him, the more he seemed like everyone else she knew, just in a different uniform.

“There were Nif- uh, Imperials in the Citadel that night,” she blurted out. Part of her hoped he’d laugh cruelly at his countrymen’s demise, prove that all Niffs were truly vile, but all he did was frown.

“What are you talking about?”

“They were there, during the attack.” Valeria supposed they could have used the distraction of the fireworks display to vacate the Citadel, but there was no way they’d made it out of the blast zone in such a short time.

“Did you not know that?” She asked as Loqi’s scowl deepened.

He cocked his head, like he was about to respond, but then shook it instead. “Let’s just get this done.”

“Alright.” Valeria knew better than to push him.

She followed Loqi into the building that housed the power substation in this area, finding more Imperial soldiers who had already assembled the massive magitek generator. Valeria understood how they worked to a point, but had yet to discover what material exactly served as fuel. It wasn’t combustion, she noted, observing the glowing red haze that was apparently the byproduct of whatever reaction. _Strange_ , she thought, unaware of any chemical or physical process that produced such an effect.

The Niffs had brought all the appropriate cords and converters, and, having already done this a few times, quickly hooked everything up under her supervision. She then booted up the computer attached to the substation, and set to work on the real reason she was brought here.

Valeria typed in the administrative password, then tapped through the menus on the touchscreen, clearing all the flags and warnings that announced the central reactors were down, and then implemented the protocols that allowed the substation to run on auxiliary power.

“You could just write all that down for me,” Loqi said over her shoulder as Valeria logged out of the computer. “Then you wouldn’t have to come out here every time.”

Valeria turned around and looked him in the eye. “That’s alright,” she said with knowing smile. “I sleep a lot better knowing you people have a very good reason not to shoot me full of holes.”

With all the troopers, the soldiers and their rifles, Loqi could have surrounded her and forced her to give it all up right there, but he merely gave her an appraising nod.

“Well then,” he said. “I guess we better get you back before the sun goes down.”

 

* * *

 

Valeria returned to the relief camp just as the sun began to set; her stomach was growling, but with the prospect of nothing but more bland rations waiting for her dinner, she turned towards her bunk instead.

More than one person gave her a suspicious look as she made her way down the row, but she ignored them. She looked for Felix instead, to see if he’d at least sit with her during her evening ‘meal.’ But his cot was empty.

Valeria assumed he must have gone to the toilets or to get something to eat, but then something else - or the lack of something - caught her eye. His backpack and Academy jacket, usually stuffed messily under his cot, were missing as well.

“Hey,” Valeria said to the nearest person. “The kid who sleeps there,” she pointed to Felix’s cot, “do you know where he went?”

“No clue,” the person said. “Haven’t seen him all day.” Every person she asked responded the same way - they either had never noticed him at all, or hadn’t seen him since the morning. Was it possible that he’d taken her advice, gotten in touch with his family and found his way out of this miserable place? It was the only explanation that even made a bit of sense, and she had almost started to feel happy for him when she saw it. His phone charger...cord still wound up in the same position where she’d left it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to post the next chapter pretty soon, rather than next week - originally I planned to post it all as one chapter, but I think the scenes work better separated...and I wanna give you guys more Iggy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of a warning here - this chapter contains torture (nothing insane, but it is definitely torture) and parent on child physical/verbal abuse.

Sneaking through Fort Vaullerey had been simpler than Ignis anticipated. Prompto and Gladiolus had, unsurprisingly, provided an excellent distraction, and Noctis had eliminated the remaining magitek patrols with ease.

When their target began to almost casually discuss the murder of Jared Hester, Ignis felt himself begin to seethe, exchanging a look with the Prince. _Knock him out and make it hurt_. Noctis obliged with a quick, brutal blow to the back of the man’s head.

Dragging the officer’s considerable bulk - exacerbated by the plate armor the man was wearing - Ignis relied on that anger to give him the strength to cross the hangar where the hunters the Marshal had sent over were waiting.

One of them ran forward when he saw Ignis struggling, grabbing the Imperial’s feet.

“I appreciate the assistance,” Ignis said, trying not to make it too obvious he needed to catch his breath.

“Not a problem, sir,” the hunter drawled out, his accent marking him of rural Lucian stock. Another hunter, younger, sort of hovered between them, until the older man snapped. “Boy, make yourself useful and get the damn door.”

“Uh, okay.” The younger hunter trotted off, pulling open a door that led to a hallway in the fort’s command center, then opened another door to a radio room. With the help of the older hunter, Ignis settled the unconscious man in a chair, instructing his assistants to bind the man’s limbs to the arms and legs of his seat.

Ignis stepped back, wiping the perspiration from his glasses as he surveyed their surroundings. Small, cramped, poorly lit - a voice was barking out a series of orders through the radio speakers; Ignis flicked switches until the device fell silent.

The older hunter rocked back on his heels, surveying the bindings. “Tighter, boy. This ain’t supposed to be fun.” Something about the impatient way the man bossed around his younger counterpart made Ignis vaguely uncomfortable, but the Marshal wouldn’t have sent him if he weren’t competent.

Now that Ignis got a good look at him, the second hunter, if he could even be called that, appeared to be no older than Iris Amicitia. Based upon the resemblance, he was likely the son of the first.

“This is not something for children,” Ignis said to the elder hunter as the younger did as he was instructed.

In response, the man snorted. “As far as I’m concerned, the boy became a man the moment he knocked up his girlfriend.”

His son merely hung his head, and Ignis decided it was best not to intervene in strangers’ family affairs. Besides, interrogating the Imperial was his primary concern.

After ensuring that the restraints were secure, Ignis produced a vial of smelling salts from his pocket and waved them under the Imperial’s nose. A potion would have worked quicker, but it also would have numbed the pain from Noctis’s blow, and Ignis wanted him to feel it. Slowly, the man roused, bringing his chin off his chest, blinking until he met Ignis’s gaze.

If this were a battle of strength or fitness, the man’s middling years would have been a weakness Ignis could exploit; but in this situation, age and experience were a boon. Old men didn’t scare easily. And Ignis had never done something like this before, never even properly trained for it. All he had was his substantial anger, simmering right below the surface, and his desire for revenge, to save Valeria and the rest of their fellow Insomnians from Imperial control.

“Caligo Ulldor,” Ignis said. The man regarded him impassively, like they were passing strangers on the subway. This wasn’t going to be easy - but then, what had been since they’d set out on the road?

“That’s your name, correct?” The name itself didn’t ring any bells, but it was clear from his armor and the way he’d carried himself about the base that the man held a high rank in the Imperial military.

Caligo squinted for a moment before speaking. “You’re one of the Prince’s lackeys.”

“The _King_ ,” Ignis growled. _Thanks to your kind murdering his father_.

Ignis summoned one of his daggers and began to casually cut away the straps binding Caligo’s armored gauntlet to his right hand - his dominant hand, indicated by the fact that he wore his sword over his left hip. The pieces clattered to the ground, and Caligo gave no indication of fear or even apprehension, although he had to know what was coming. Out of the corner of his eye, Ignis spied the young hunter taking a few steps backwards.

“I can handle this, Lord Scientia.” The elder hunter stepped forward, hefting a small but nasty-looking hatchet. “No need for you to dirty your fancy suit.”

“I’m not a lord,” Ignis corrected. Not since Caligo Ulldor’s countrymen had razed his ancestral home in Tenebrae. “But you may do as you will.”

Ignis took a step back, part of him knowing it was cowardly - if he was going to advocate torture, he ought to have the stones to personally carry out the grisly deed. But the elder hunter appeared eager - perhaps disturbingly so - and Ignis feared that once started, he wouldn’t have the stomach to continue. Or worse, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Where has the Empire taken the Crystal?” Ignis asked their prisoner.

Caligo said nothing, just continued to stare at him, and Ignis felt the weight of judgement behind those dark, hooded eyes. Truly, there was no substitute for experience - despite their positions, it seemed that Caligo was able to make Ignis far more uncomfortable than the reverse.

“The Crystal,” Ignis repeated. When Caligo failed to respond, Ignis nodded toward the hunter.

The hunter slammed the blunted, reverse side of the hatchet down onto the first joint of Caligo’s pinky. Caligo grit his teeth, a groan escaping his lips, but his eyes remained defiant. Behind Ignis, the young hunter inhaled sharply as his father pulled his weapon away, revealing the finger, already beginning to swell, now sitting at an odd angle on the armrest.

“The Crystal,” Ignis said again. And again, Caligo remained silent, save for groans and grunts as the hunter broke his fingers, one by one. With each sickening crunch, and each defiant, silent glare, Ignis felt his rage mounting. _Valeria_. _Uncle_. _King Regis_. _Jared Hester_. _And Noct_... Noctis was next on the Empire’s list. Like wildfire, they wouldn’t stop until they’d taken it all, devoured everything in their path.

“ _Enough_!” Ignis thundered, once again summoning the dagger to his grasp. He stabbed it right through the center of Caligo’s crumpled hand, pinning it to the armrest beneath. Blood began to drip immediately from the wound.

“Tell me where you’ve taken the Crystal,” Ignis growled, frightened by his own sudden loss of control, but unable to stop himself. He twisted the knife, watching Caligo’s jaw tense and quiver, but those eyes... there was anger there now. Indignation. But not fear.

“Uh, uh...m-m-magitek,” the younger hunter stammered out. Ignis whipped his head around, the metal men charging the hallway suddenly bringing him to his senses. He pulled his dagger from Caligo’s hand, ignoring the arc of blood the movement produced, and summoned its twin, ducking low as he charged forward.

“Watch him, boy,” the hunter instructed his son, then joined the fray. Ignis slashed at the cords and wires exposed at the MTs’ joints, dismembering them with speed and surgical precision. The hunter’s movements were far less elegant, hacking and punching his way through, but it got the job done. Ignis pursued the remaining magitek troops out into the open air of the hangar, hearing the sounds of Gladiolus, Prompto, and Noctis battling forces on the other side of the fort.

“Keep them occupied!” Ignis instructed the elder hunter, sprinting for the power generator at the opposite end of the hangar. When he was in range, he threw one, then both knives, summoning his lance while they were still in mid-air, launching that weapon just as the daggers embedded in the machine. Electricity crackled as the generator malfunctioned, and Ignis felt the fine hairs on his body rise as he summoned the daggers back into his hands, aiming for the generator once more. It failed with a billow of smoke and a low whine, the troopers it was powering instantly crumpling to the ground.

The hunter affected a crude sort of salute with his hatchet and Ignis nodded in return, following him back through the hangar to the interrogation room.

The chair was empty. The younger hunter sat in the corner, cradling his head in his hands.

“What...?” Ignis, chest still heaving from the sudden battle, stared in shock at the vacant seat and the drops of blood leading back out the door.

“ _What the hell did you do, boy_?” The elder hunter bellowed, hauling his son to his feet.

“He-he-he said, he said...” The kid was cowering, trying to back away from his father’s firm grasp. “I, uh, I just l-loosened it a little bit! I swear, sir!”

Ignis was shaking, and it wasn’t from the fight. “Why?” he managed through clenched teeth.

“H-he said, um, said he was going to bleed out, and I-I, uh, he still needed to answer your questions, so I...I...” The rest of his feeble explanation was cut off as his father slapped him hard across the face.

“That don’t make a lick of sense, you Gods damned idiot! What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

Normally, Ignis never would have stood for a father beating on his child. But he was so angry, so frustrated, and so _ashamed_ that their first real lead had slipped from his grasp, that he could only stand there as the hunter berated his son, and continue to stand there as the boy fell to his knees and offered profuse apologies.

“I should rejoin His Magesty,” Ignis replied coldly, unable to provide any sort of forgiveness at the moment. He spun on his heel, back toward the sounds of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This mission was seriously the most WTF mission in the game for me. Track a guy, knock him out and capture him, then 2 minutes later, Ignis - of all people - loses him off-screen, and...that's kind of the beginning and the end of Caligo Ulldor in the narrative, aside from some post-story mission where he doesn't even get out of his mech. Huh?
> 
> To fit with the canon, I couldn't change the fact that Ignis doesn't get any useful information out of the guy, but this is my attempt to at least make some kind of sense out of this truly bizarre (e.g. truly unfinished) section of the game.


	7. Chapter 7

Valeria sat on her bunk, staring at Felix’s still-empty cot in bewilderment, while the morning announcements played over the loudspeaker. She was only half-paying attention; it was the usual: one ration per person per voucher, curfew at sundown, manufacturing district strictly off-limits. She found that last one particularly strange, given that she’d restored the power to that area over a week ago, but was now far too distracted with Felix’s disappearance to care about what was happening in another part of town.

Two days, and no sign of him. No help from anyone else either. He must have been as invisible as she felt, getting only shrugs or frowns in reply from every person she spoke to. They didn’t seem to understand how serious the situation was - Felix would _never_ leave without his phone charger. Hell, he didn’t even go to the latrines without taking his phone.

“There will be a special announcement given by the High Commander and the Provisional Governor at noon today,” the voice over the loudspeaker droned. “All citizens are required to attend.”

Valeria shook her head. ‘ _Special announcement_.’ Was it about how children were going missing and no one seemed to give a damn? Because that seemed like something people should be aware of.

Unable to stomach breakfast on this particular morning, she instead put on her shoes and wandered around the camp, questioning any unfamiliar faces about Felix. It would have helped if she had a photo of him, or even knew his last name. As it was, the way people stared at her through narrowed eyes, it felt like she had dreamed him up to keep her company.

Her feet took her, perhaps subconsciously, over to the missing persons area, where a stalwart few still kept futile vigil. Valeria approached a pair of women - one who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week, clutching a photograph; the other decidedly more hale, hovering protectively over her friend.

“Hey,” Valeria said to the pair. “I’m looking for someone.”

The healthier-looking woman scoffed. “You and everyone else here.”

Valeria shook her head. “No, he’s not-” She almost said _dead_ , but caught herself. It may have been the unfortunate truth these people were unwilling to accept, but rubbing that in their faces would certainly not win her any allies in her search.

“He was here,” she said instead. “Two days ago.” Valeria went on to describe Felix while the woman holding the photograph stared at her dispassionately.

Her companion sneered. “Why don’t you go ask that Niff you’re all buddy-buddy with? Don’t think we haven’t seen you coming and going with him.”

Valeria frowned. “It’s not-” She stopped herself from explaining. They could think what they would about her; that wasn’t why she was here. “A child is missing,” she said. “Don’t be petty.”

“ _My_ child is missing!” The other woman cried, suddenly on her feet and shoving the photograph into Valeria’s face. “Nobody gives a damn about her! Nobody...”

The woman’s friend pushed her aside, standing with shoulders squared and arms crossed, something vaguely physically threatening in her bearing. Valeria could tell the only thing she was going to get out of these two was more yelling and possibly a slap to the face, so she backed off, despite her growing irritation.

 _Your child is buried under a mound of rubble_. Sad, but true. Nothing could be done for those people, but Felix...Felix could still be out there somewhere, in need of help. Valeria was no detective, but it was clear he hadn’t left voluntarily. Which meant that he’d either been taken by the Niffs for some unknown purpose, or some pervert had abducted him, twisting the chaos of the occupation to his own, sick advantage. In either scenario, time was not on their side.

She made her way over to the entrance to the relief camp, where the announcement was to be given, hoping to question people who were staying outside the camp in the neighborhoods. A makeshift scaffold had been erected in the area; Lucians and Niffs alike milled around in wait of their ‘special’ guests, but the two groups kept strictly to themselves, never mingling.

Valeria made her way through the crowd, talking to anyone who would give her the time of day, but it was more of the same. _How does someone just up and vanish_? she wondered. The whole situation was beginning to make her feel vaguely crazy, so she went to stand on the far edge of the crowd, arms crossed over her body, desperately trying not to flash back to that party on that terrible night at the Citadel, despite the obvious similarities. She settled for eavesdropping in order to keep herself distracted.

“-telling you, it was a daemon,” a man behind her said, his voice insistent.

“How the heck would you even know, Jon? You seen a daemon before?” another man asked.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t a rat,” the first man, Jon, replied. “It was all twisted and... _hissy_.”

“If it was a daemon - and I ain’t saying it was - how come it didn’t attack you?” the second man said.

“Scared the nasty old thing off with my flashlight,” Jon said.

“Maybe with your face,” his friend said. The pair shared a laugh that was abruptly cut short by the appearance of a cadre of magitek troopers.

Valeria felt her breath catch in her throat, every hair on her body stand on end, every square inch of her body freeze in terror as the smell of smoke and blood filled her nostrils, screams filled her ears. _It’s happening again_...

But it wasn’t. Nothing was happening. The magitek encircled the scaffold, all snapping to attention at once, their mask-like faces and metal limbs frozen in place. _Stop it_ , Valeria told herself, told her racing heart and quivering knees. _It’s fine_. **_You’re_ ** _fine_.

No one in the crowd seemed to notice her momentary panic, all too fixated on a tall, slender man in a white coat as he took to the stage.

“High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret,” some soldier barked out, and all the Niffs in the crowd went rigid in salute. _Ravus Nox Fleuret_... The familiarity of that name gave her brain something to focus on. She’d heard the First Son of Tenebrae had turned his coat to the Imperial side, but was shocked to see that he’d made it all the way to the post of High Commander. Apparently she wasn’t the only one to recall his origin. The crowd received him with absolutely zero applause, and quite a few jeers.

“Snake!” Several people called out. “Imperial scum!”

“Ain’t that the Oracle’s brother?” the man behind her, Jon, said.

“I heard he watched the Niffs kill his mama way back when. Now look at him,” his friend said. “There’s a special place in hell for his kind.”

 _His kind_. The men behind her were correct: The Niflheim Empire had murdered the Queen during the invasion of Tenebrae, and a young Ravus had witnessed it all. Ignis had essentially confirmed that for her when she’d been brave enough to broach the subjugation of his homeland;  he’d replied almost coldly, rattling off information like he was reading it from a textbook. “I was already here when it happened,” he’d said with a casual shrug. “Lucis is my home now.” She’d always thought that he truly believed that, and yet something about that proclamation didn’t quite square with the fact that he’d deliberately hung onto his distinct Tenebraen accent after all these years.

Ravus, on the other hand, had apparently done his best to sound like his Imperial masters. “People of Lucis,” he called out above the leering crowd. There were hints of his Tenebraen origin around the edges of the vowels and in the distinct way he enunciated the hard consonants, but all-in-all, he sounded more like a Niff than Ignis or even his own sister, doing her interviews over the radio.

 _The Oracle still lives_. Ignis had told Valeria that over the phone a few days ago. Maybe that was why Ravus did what he did - to protect his sister. Maybe, as with Valeria, it had begun as small tasks, couched under the guise of aiding Lady Lunafreya and his fellow countrymen. And then slowly, over the years, he’d begun to buy what the Niffs were selling him, or simply felt trapped, realized he was in too deep to back out. What would she do if the Empire brought her Ignis in chains and demanded her compliance in exchange for his life? _Almost anything_. The realization that she could be watching her future self up on that scaffold left her with a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Ravus turned slightly, revealing one arm that was curiously fully armored from shoulder to fingertip, and a familiar-looking sword hilt attached to his belt. King Regis’s sword. Valeria wasn’t the only one to recognize it.

“Thief! Traitor!” The disapproval from the crowd boiled over into rage. It seemed almost everyone was shouting or booing now, except for the people who walked off in disgust. Something whizzed over Valeria’s head and the arm of one of the magitek troopers shot up, unnaturally fast and at an impossible angle, plucking the rock from the air.

“ _Enough_!” Some lesser Imperial officer shouted. The MTs brought their rifles to half-attention, and Valeria immediately began to backpeddle, pushing aside the men who had been bickering about daemons minutes before. She forced herself to stop when the crowd quieted down and the troopers went back to their passive stance.

Ravus didn’t bother with niceties or platitudes. He swiftly introduced the provisional Governor, apparently appointed by himself, to absolutely no fanfare. The Governor wore a smug expression as he took the stage, a little man who looked happy to finally be in charge of something. The proud, self-satisfied speech he gave while Ravus looked on, full of hollow promises and self-aggrandizement, only served to confirm her analysis. He wasn’t here to make life in Insomnia better for its citizens; he was here to polish his little ego.

“In addition to the Governor,” Ravus said after the man had finished speaking, “I am promoting Caligo Ulldor to Brigadier Commander, and leaving him in charge of Imperial forces in Insomnia.”

A stout man, clad in armor similar to Loqi Tummelt’s, shuffled across the stage. He wore a  metal gauntlet on his left hand, but his right was encased in a thick plaster cast, and his face appeared slightly ashen, as if he’d recently been ill. Unlike the Governor, Caligo surveyed the crowd with the discerning eye of a career military man; although the expression he wore was neutral, something about his air set her ill at ease. Caligo did not give a speech, or any words at all, merely nodding to acknowledge his promotion.

Valeria’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She peeked at it just long enough to see that it was a message from the fake name she’d reassigned to Ignis’s contact in her address book - an extra precaution, just in case.

She extricated herself from the back of the crowd to take his message, although it was obvious it wasn’t about anything particularly important.

_How are you feeling today?_

Valeria didn’t know what to tell him about Felix, much less how to explain it over text messages. So, she lied.

 _Alright_.

_Is your shoulder still bothering you?_

_Not really_.

_Are you sure everything’s alright?_

_Just in the middle of something. I’ll call you later_.

Valeria let out a long sigh, putting her phone back in her pocket. Being short with Ignis was hardly fair, but she couldn’t help feeling that he just didn’t understand - couldn’t understand - how miserable things were for her, here. It wasn’t his fault, and she knew he was trying, but at this moment, surrounded by people who either despised her or simply didn’t care about her or Felix or anyone else, it didn’t feel like it was enough.

And now, on top of that, there was the uncomfortable idea that she and Ravus Nox Fleuret were on the same spectrum, that maybe those people who distrusted her were _right_. _No_ , she reminded herself. _You’re doing this to earn the Niffs’ trust, to get information for Ignis. For your true King_.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis was annoyed.

He was annoyed with Gladiolus for up and leaving with very little in the way of an explanation, with Noctis for insisting that they spend an entire day to fish the Vesperpool, with Prompto for apparently having nothing better to do than play video games on his phone and speculate on the state of Cindy’s undergarments.

 _Am I the only one who feels any sense of urgency_? he wondered as he paced their campsite, staring down the hill at his younger counterparts on the dock, feeling far more like a babysitter than royal retainer. He could hardly begrudge Noctis a bit of leisure time after all they’d been through, and had to admit that his catch made for an excellent dinner, but the parts they needed to sail His Majesty’s boat to Altissia were not going to collect themselves. And the faster they received the Hydraean’s blessing, the faster they could hunt down the Crystal and reclaim their  _home_.

Thinking of the Crystal only gave Ignis more reasons to be annoyed. Annoyed with that foolish young hunter for letting their Imperial captive go, annoyed with the elder hunter for bringing someone so clearly inexperienced along on an important mission, annoyed with himself for letting it all happen. He’d lost his temper, lost control of himself and the situation, stabbing the man and giving him the opening he needed to get under the young hunter’s skin. _He beat you_ , Ignis thought to himself, feeling equal parts shame and pique. _In a battle of wits, no less_.

It was downright embarrassing. As was the way Ignis had behaved afterward, just leaving that awful man to beat on his son. The boy may have deserved a verbal lashing, but not physical violence. Noctis, had he been present, never would have tolerated such abuse; and, as his servant, it was Ignis’s duty to uphold his King’s wishes whether he was present or not.

 _Failure_ was the word that came to mind, that had been dogging him since their encounter at Fort Vaullerey, even if the others didn’t seem particularly bothered. Stuck with his dark thoughts while Noctis and Prompto horsed around, Ignis tried to text Valeria in order to distract himself, but her responses were brief, clipped; up until now she’d managed a friendly tone, despite everything she must have been going through, which only left him to worry about her on top of everything else.

All that fretting, combined with the humidity and noise from myriad creatures near the lake, kept him up half the night, and so, when Noctis and Prompto crept out of their tent unseasonably early the next morning, whispering something about mushrooms, Ignis merely rolled over and went back to sleep.

When he woke next, beams of sunlight poured in through the seams of the tent, and, noting that he was still alone, Ignis put on his glasses, examining his phone with eyes still bleary from sleep. No new messages. He then went to reach for his toothbrush when the ground beneath him trembled, followed by the bellowing of some great creature. And, just below that commotion, he could’ve sworn he heard the shouting of Noctis and Prompto...

Ignis was out of the tent in the span of seconds, daggers in hand, barefoot and wearing nothing but his nightclothes. To both his relief and dismay, Noctis and Prompto were sprinting from the lake toward the hill and campsite - with a massive catoblepas trudging after them.

“ _Noct_!” Ignis yelled, running toward the Prince. The gargantuan creature was slow, but each of its strides were vast, its lumbering quickly closing the distance between itself and the others. Such beasts were usually docile, but this one shook its colossal head, swaying about on its long neck, aggressively huffing and puffing through its snout.

“Run!” Ignis shouted, dismissing his daggers and grabbing Noctis by one arm, Prompto with the other, hauling both of them up the hill. There was no way the three of them could take on the catoblepas in a fight; flight was their only option.

“The mushrooms!” Prompto cried, his voice high and panicky. “Ditch the mushrooms!”

Ignis had no idea what he was on about, but Noctis responded, digging into his pocket and tossing a handful of fungi off behind them. As the trio of them sprinted past the campsite and into the woods, the catoblepas slowed, then stopped, snuffing at the ground where Noctis had thrown the mushrooms. After quickly gobbling them up and sniffing around for a second helping, it trundled off back toward the lake with a low, satisfied sound.

Convinced the coast was clear - and more than a bit confused - Ignis signaled it was safe to return to camp and immediately rounded on the other two.

“What in Eos was _that_?”

Noctis and Prompto, both bent over to catch their breath, took one look at each others’ pale faces and simultaneously burst out laughing.

“You just about crapped your pants, man!” Noctis said to Prompto, chortling all the while.

“Me? Look at you!” Prompto replied, wiping sweat from his face.

All Ignis could do was glower. “Since when is nearly being devoured by a giant beast a laughing matter?”

“Whew...” Noctis didn’t seem to be listening at all. “Specs, the look on your face...” He and Prompto burst into laughter once more.

 _Am I the only one who’s sane around here_? “You provoked it with those mushrooms, didn’t you?” Ignis demanded. Honestly, he’d met five-year-olds with more sense than that.  

“But I got the shot!” Prompto declared, triumphantly brandishing his camera. “That’s all that matters.”

Ignis rounded on him. “What _matters_ is that you put the life of our King in jeopardy for the sake of a bloody photograph. Do you have any idea what would happen if Noct were to perish? Do you?”

“Ignis, it’s cool,” Noctis said, his laughter finally tapering off. “We had it under control.”

“You most certainly did not,” Ignis snapped. “There are people - _thousands_ of people - counting on you to retake your throne and avenge what was lost. Do you understand that? Do you care, at all?”

“Of course I care,” Noctis muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Geez...”

Prompto had gone bright red, not entirely from exertion, and merely hung his head. “And you!” Ignis jabbed a finger at his chest. “Do you understand what it means to be a member of the Crownsguard? Because I can assure you, endangering the life of the King for the sake of your hobby is entirely contrary to its purpose.”

“Hey, lay off him,” Noctis said, grabbing Ignis by the shoulder. “We’re fine, aren’t we?”

Ignis shrugged him off and threw up his hands. “This is not a vacation,” he said, and withdrew to the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp... It looks like next week’s update is going to be THAT chapter (•﹏•) Prepare your tissues, pitchforks, cute pictures of cats, etc. accordingly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a warning for male on female (physical) violence.

“Valeria Soleil?”

Valeria looked up from her phone to see two Imperial soldiers standing over her. They weren’t ones she recognized, but then, most of the rank-and-file Imperial military always wore full-face helmets.

“What?”

“We need you to come with us.”

Valeria paused for a moment, cocking her head. She hadn’t received work from Loqi in days, not since the High Commander had shown up. He usually didn’t send people to retrieve her like this, but perhaps with all the bigwigs present in Insomnia, he was busy with other things. She’d actually been hoping to meet with him, to try to suss out if he knew anything about what had happened to Felix.

So, she set her phone aside on her bunk and followed the two men through the relief camp - not to the entrance, as usual, but to one of those small tents where she’d been interrogated about Noctis’s whereabouts on the first day. Valeria narrowed her eyes, but got nothing from the metal-clad faces of the soldiers in return. _What is this_?

The man Ravus had introduced - Caligo Ulldor was his name, she recalled - stood inside, waiting for her.

“Have a seat, Miss Soleil,” he said.

Valeria regarded him warily, but did as she was asked, sitting on the narrow stool in the center of the small tent.

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

“Oh, yes.” Caligo smiled, a predatory look akin to an animal baring its teeth. “I believe you can.” He handed her a piece of paper and Valeria looked it over, her stomach plummeting to the floor. It was a photocopy of the form she'd used to identify the body of Ignis’s uncle.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” Caligo pointed to her name on the form. Valeria didn’t know why she tried to keep her expression neutral - her hands, her knees, every part of her was trembling so badly that she’d already given herself away. She tried to take several deep breaths, tried to slow her racing heart, as she gave the barest of nods.

“Scientia…” Caligo’s dark eyes glowed like a wolf’s in the lamplight. “That’s a foreign name, isn’t it?” When Valeria said nothing, he went on. “You must have known this man fairly well to identify his corpse.”

Valeria shook her head. “He was...he was just a friend of my mother’s. I didn’t know him well at all.”

“Hmm.” Caligo paced the small area in front where she sat, the fingers on his left hand idly rubbing the back of the cast on his right. “Awfully strange to identify the body of a man you barely know. Unless…” He stopped suddenly, looking her in the eye. “You’re close with one of his relations. Someone nearer to your age, perhaps.”

 _He already knows everything_. That much was clear from the way he was grinning at her, from the little show he was putting on with all his questions. It was probably fun for him, watching her squirm. He already knew everything, but she would never give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Valeria said flatly.

“Oh, I think you do.” Caligo dropped a book in her lap, awkwardly flipping to a dog-eared page with his left hand. She had no idea how the Niffs had managed to get their hands on a copy of the Academy yearbook from half a decade ago, but here it was.

And here on the page was a photo of herself and Ignis walking through the Academy courtyard: him in those squarish glasses he used to wear, a bloom of teenage acne marring his cheeks, and her with her books clutched to her non-existent chest, with all the curves of a flagpole. Beneath the photo was some insipid caption about catching the class’s top students on a rare study break.

“Ignis Scientia.” For a moment, Caligo’s smiling mask faltered, revealing something far darker, cold and angry, beneath. “He serves the Crown Prince.” This time, it wasn’t a question.

“This was a long time ago,” was all Valeria could say, tears threatening to spring from her eyes. She was already dead; now it was only a matter of how slow and painful it would be.

“And yet, you must have spoken to him recently about his deceased family member.” Caligo leaned forward until his face was inches from hers, black gaze boring holes in her skull. “Did Scientia tell you what he did to me?” he hissed, his breath a hot stream of pure venom. “Was he _proud_ of his little interrogation?”

Valeria’s eyes drifted down toward the thick cast on Caligo’s right hand. _Iggy_ , she thought, _what did you do_? Strangely emboldened by the sudden break in his composure, Valeria fixed him with the same apathetic look she’d received from every Imperial since the war began.

“This is war, Commander. And in war, there are casualties.”

Caligo snatched the book from her lap and used it to smack her across the face. Valeria fell from her seat, blinking back stars and tears, too shocked to cry out from the pain.

“ _War_ ?” Caligo thundered. “You are but _children_ , playing at war!” He wrenched her up to her knees by the arm, only to slap her across the face once more, this time with his cast - the thick plaster hitting her like a hammer.

“Where is the Prince?” he demanded.

Valeria laid where she had fallen, tasting blood, unabashedly sobbing. _Is this really how it ends_? She would’ve rather the Magitek Troopers gunned her down that first night.

Caligo went to grab her again when the tent flap swung open, harsh sunlight stinging her eye that wasn’t already half-swollen shut. Black boots and black armor were all she could see.

“Uhh…” Somewhere, beneath all her terror and pain, the rational part of her recognized that voice. Loqi Tummelt. “You make it a habit of beating on women, Ulldor?”

“Brigadier  _Commander_ Ulldor,” Caligo said through clenched teeth.

“Tch…” Loqi paused, shuffled his feet. “Fine. You make it a habit of beating on women, _sir_?”

“This _woman_ is a conspirator with the Crown Prince.” Caligo violently shook her by the shoulder, the one that she’d been shot in, and Valeria couldn’t help but whimper as pain resurfaced in her old wound. “She _knows_ where he is.”

Valeria caught Loqi’s gaze; he didn’t seem overly concerned with her plight, just wearing that same, vague expression of boredom that he always had. _Help me_. She implored him with her eyes. _Please_.

Before he could do or say anything, Caligo shouted at her again. “Where is the Prince?” When Valeria didn’t answer, when Loqi didn’t come to her rescue, Caligo knocked her back down, the right side of her face already so swollen and numb that she barely felt the blow. But she did feel the kick to her ribs, causing her to cough and gag, to instinctively curl in on herself as his boot rammed into her side over and over until she was unable to breathe.

“Hey, Ull-” Loqi cleared his throat. “Uh, sir...you know we still need her, right?”

The question was enough to earn Valeria a brief reprieve, and she gasped for air, writhing on the cool ground.

“What?” Caligo barked.

“Well, yeah,” Loqi replied. “We still have to get the power back in the other sectors, and she’s about all that’s left of the original power company.”

“Do you really think anyone gives a damn about the _electricity_ in this Gods forsaken city?” Caligo sneered. “The Emperor wants the Prince. _Dead_.”

“Well, I was put in charge of the power, so...I give a damn.” Loqi paused a moment before adding, “Sir.”

If Valeria could have, she would have used their argument to run - better they shoot her down than slowly beat her to death. But as it was, she could only crawl feebly, in so much pain that she could barely see straight, let alone devise any means of retreat.

“Look.” Loqi dropped his voice, although Valeria could still make out what he was saying. “She’s no soldier. If you were going to beat it out of her, I think you would’ve by now. Kill her here, now, and we both fail.”

“What are you getting at?” Caligo snapped.

This time, Loqi whispered so low she couldn’t hear his words, only an urgent, conspiratorial hissing. Her fate, her future, in the hands of two men who saw her as nothing but a means to an end.

“Fine,” Caligo finally said, not sounding very pleased. “But if this doesn’t work, Tummelt...”

Loqi shrugged. “Tear her apart.”

Before she could even wonder what they were talking about, the two men left the tent, swiftly replaced by a pair of Magitek troopers.

“No, no, no...” Valeria tried to crawl away, but they scooped her up anyway, wholly unbothered by her squirming protests, and carried her through the camp to the first aid station.

Valeria collapsed on the nearest cot as the MTs retreated, leaving her alone with the medic in charge.

“Oh, geez, uh...” The medic cleared his throat. “I, uh, I need to examine you-” Valeria flinched when he touched her shoulder. “Sorry! Um, did that hurt, or...?”

Valeria swallowed all the blood and phlegm at the back of her throat and turned to look at him, realizing belatedly that it was the same kid who’d tended to her stitches while in training. That he was a familiar face didn’t bring her any comfort at the moment.

“Hi,” the medic said, giving her an awkward smile more akin to a grimace. “You’re hurt, so...” He touched her hand, then gently pulled it away from the battered side of her face, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Okay, let’s see here...I need to check for broken bones, administer analgesic, steroids to reduce the swelling...” He continued to mutter to himself as he went through drawers, pulling out various tools and medicines.

Valeria sat on the cot, unable to stop crying, even though it pained her face and bruised ribs. _You’re not dead_ , she tried to tell herself, but it didn’t help. She wasn’t safe either.

The medicus prodded at her injuries, apologizing profusely when she yelped in pain, and assured her no bones were broken. “I’m going to need to give you stitches,” he said.

“W-what?” Valeria looked down and realized the hand that had been clutching her face was covered in blood. Her left eye and cheek were so painful and swollen, and she was in so much shock, she hadn’t even realized that one of Caligo’s blows had broken the skin.

“Just a few.” The medicus, despite his obvious inexperience, was actually a steady hand when it came to patching her up, weaving his little needle in and out of the broken skin below her left eye.

“Whatever he wants,” the medicus said quietly, eyes trained on his work, “you should just give him. Trust me.”

Valeria would have frowned, but it was too painful. Was this some kind of ploy to wheedle the information out of her by showing her kindness? _No_ , she told herself. This kid hadn’t even been able to look at her bra without blushing profusely - and now she was wondering if he was some kind of master spy? _You’re losing it_.

“I think you’re the first one he’s actually sent back,” the medicus said, applying a small bandage over her face.

Valeria gripped his wrist, forcing him to look her in the eye. “You mean, he’s been taking others? Have you seen a kid, about fourteen? He disappeared last week.”

“Huh?” The medicus shook his head. “No, uh, this started a couple days ago. He...” Again, the medicus shook his head, then turned his face away from her. “You should just do what he says, okay?”

With that, the young man sent her off, and, barely able to walk, Valeria had little choice but to return to her bunk, barely aware of the way the others were staring at her, whispering as she collapsed onto her cot.

 _He’s not done with you_. Valeria didn’t quite understand why he’d let her go, but it was clear that now that Caligo Ulldor was onto her, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she gave him the information he wanted or had beaten her face to a bloody pulp.

Too exhausted and traumatized to formulate any sort of plan, Valeria pulled the blanket over her head, clutched her mother’s wedding ring to her chest, and cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting today with the most miserable updates (ಠ_ಠ)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALTISSIA.

Ignis had seen the mighty Titan shouldering the weight of a meteor at the Disc, seen Ramuh fill the sky with purple, forked lightning, and yet none of these wonders could compare to the spectacle of Leviathan.  

The Goddess had answered the Oracle’s summons, rearing her mighty, sinuous head above the ocean depths, presiding over the city on the sea like a twisted monolith. And she was _angry._  Ignis couldn’t understand the language of the Gods - no one could, save the Oracle - but he could hear fury in those strange, clipped words; he could practically feel her rage vibrating beneath Altissia’s cobbled streets. _There is a reason the Hydraean’s wrath is quite literally legendary_ , he thought, as he, Gladiolus, and Prompto herded awe-struck citizens away from the docks and to the safety of higher ground. Just in time, it seemed, as Leviathan buffeted her mighty fins, spewing forth a gale of salty wind, her waves overwhelming the boats docked along the pier.

Never in his life had Ignis felt more insignificant, more small, than he did now. Titan and Ramuh had at least seemed to take some notice of the paltry humans on the ground, but Leviathan...she was rapidly flooding an entire city without a care, like a man might crush an ant hill under foot.

“Quickly, now!” Ignis impelled the people who had gathered to view the rite. The city guard had cordoned off areas directly on the water, but people had still managed to find ways around the blockade, spurred by the moving speech Lady Lunafreya had given earlier in the day. Ignis understood - who didn’t want to see a Goddess in person? - but it seemed that all of them, even the First Secretary, had underestimated the Hydraean’s penchant for destruction.

What they  _had_ predicted, that the Empire would attack, also began to materialize as Imperial craft took to the skies, buzzing about Leviathan’s great arching neck like bronzed insects.

“Hurry, Noct!” Ignis urged the Prince over the phone. Imperial aircraft may have been but diminutive, buzzing flies compared to the Goddess, but their missiles packed a deadly punch.

Then, to both his awe and horror, a great wave rose out of the sea, towering higher than any building. People began to scream, to run, and Ignis whipped his head around, seeing water surrounding them on all sides. _Dear Gods_...

Leviathan had trapped the entire city inside the eye of her own personal hurricane, and the only way anyone was getting out alive was if Noctis proved himself worthy.

“Woah, look out!” Prompto shouted. Ignis ducked just as one of those Imperial anchors swung wide of its target, embedding itself into the street instead. Thankfully, the spot where it had touched down had been unoccupied. Before Ignis could ask what he was doing, Prompto was on top of it, straddling it like a motorcycle.

“Hey, I think I can work this thing!” he said.

Ignis nodded. “Use that to get Noct within striking distance of the Hydraean.”

“You got it!” With that, Prompto whizzed off toward the sky with a _whoop_ , a plume of red exhaust in his wake. Ignis got Noctis back on the phone to relay the strategy.

“Noct, jump!” Prompto shouted. Ignis tucked the phone back into his jacket and prayed to all the Gods - even the one that was currently trying to drown them - that Prompto knew how to fly the thing. It veered out of sight, then swung back into view, Noctis’s dark hair just visible at this far vantage, and made straight for the raging Goddess.

 _Godspeed, Noct. Would that I could be there with you_. But the Hydraean wasn’t interested in nobodies like him.

“Uh, Iggy...!” Gladio’s voice gave Ignis just enough time to throw a hand over his eyes as a fierce wave crested the sidewalk, sweeping over them like a slap to the face, leaving Ignis soaked to the skin, pushed back several feet by the force of it.

Gladiolus shook the excess water from his hair. “This ain’t good.”

Ignis nodded, observing that the standing water on the street was already past his ankles. “We need to move these people to higher ground. There!” Ignis pointed to the First Secretary’s Estate, situated above the rest of the city. It was several blocks away, nestled at the center of the maze of Altissia’s streets, but it was the safest place nearby.

Gladiolus and Ignis exchanged a determined look and a nod, then each took off in the opposite direction to herd the citizens who had begun to scramble every which way in a panic at the rising water. Those who had already been evacuated from the lower levels mostly went where they were told, but the people up here, in their homes and businesses, had not expected to be in danger and many were reluctant to leave.

Ignis ran, pounding on doors and windows as another great wave struck, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stopped long enough to help two women who’d toppled over, then continued down the block, forcibly pulling people from their doorways when they balked at leaving their things behind.

“There’s no time!” He shouted. The water had risen to the middle of his shins.

To his dismay, the civilians he’d sent toward the estate collided directly with Imperial forces rushing in the opposite direction to take aim at the Hydraean. Anyone who got in their way - man, woman or child - was brutally knocked aside, battered with the butt of a rifle. _Damn you_ , Ignis thought.

He wanted nothing more than to take them out, wishing the water would turn their mechanical joints to rust, but the bystanders were his priority. He saw an elderly man, doubled over from where the Magitek troopers had struck him, and Ignis hoisted him up by the shoulders, hurrying him down the street.

He doubled back to help others who had fallen behind, ducking instinctively as Imperial shells whizzed by overhead, having missed their writhing target (despite its gargantuan size), mangling buildings instead. The Hydraean’s water spouts, missiles in their own right, ripped through the streets as well, tearing bricks from the walls...and skin from flesh.

There were _bodies_ floating in the rising water now, pink rivers of blood; Ignis wasn’t sure if the Empire or the Hydraean was more to blame, and he supposed it didn’t matter in the end. People were dying.

 _Noct, please_... Ignis weaved around the dead in order to reach the living. He could barely make out their screams under the timpani of mortars and gunfire. _Don’t let their deaths be in vain_.

Ignis knew the Prince was doing his best, doing whatever he could to attain the Hydraean’s power, but with every passing moment, every roaring wave, every howl and screech from Leviathan, he had to wonder if this hadn’t been a terrible miscalculation.

 _No_ , he told himself. _Without the Astrals’ blessings, we'll never_ _take back our home_.

Ignis sent off a couple more survivors when a particularly shrill sound caught his ear - the crying of a child. He looked around, his vision distorted by all the water on his glasses, until he spotted the source of the noise. A boy, a few years younger than Talcott, hunched over the prone figure of a woman, stranded on a terrace soon to be overrun with water.

“Mama!” the boy wailed, tugging on his mother’s limp arm. “Mama!” Judging from the blood pooling beneath the woman’s head, she was most likely too far gone, beyond saving, someone who should be left behind.

But when Ignis looked at the child, he saw the blue eyes of a young prince, trying to blink back tears as he left a single sylleblossom outside his mother’s tomb. Ignis saw Talcott Hester crying in the doorway of their hotel room. He saw Valeria on her knees, watching helplessly as her mother was gunned down. And he saw a tawny-haired boy, not quite six years old, standing on his toes to peer into his parents’ caskets, trying to understand just why Mummy and Daddy weren’t going to wake up ever again.

No child should have to grow up alone.

Ignis sprinted up the steps and tossed the unconscious woman over his shoulder with a grunt. He scooped up the crying boy with his other hand and ran as quickly as his burdens and the knee-deep water would allow. The child clung to his neck so tightly Ignis thought he might choke. He paused for a moment, adjusting his grip on both people so that he could breathe, when something high above caught his eye. An Imperial ship.

They were everywhere, but this one he recognized.  _The Chancellor_. Ignis tracked the ship with his head as it flew by; that snake of a man was heading straight for the Altar, Lady Lunafreya, and Noctis.

 _Hold on, Noct_ , he prayed. _Just a bit longer._   _I’ll be there soon_.

He turned back to the street before him to run, to deliver the child and his mother to safety, to return to his proper place at the Prince’s side. He turned to something red and hot and angry filling his entire field of view.

An explosion just to his left. A scream filling his ears and lungs. His face was on fire. His world had gone black.


	10. Chapter 10

Ignis was drowning. Cold, salty water filled his nose and mouth, burned his eyes. He choked and gagged as his lungs seared, begging for air. It was dark - impossibly black, even for deep water. It was like the Hydraean had swallowed him whole.

 _Please_ , he thought. _Please don’t take me. Not yet_. Ignis had always thought that when his time came, he’d go quietly. Dignified. But if he’d had the breath to do so, he would have been screaming. _I don’t want to die_. Noctis still needed him. The others still needed him. And Valeria...he’d promised her that he’d come back, that he’d save her from the Empire. _I_ _can’t_ _die. Not here. Not yet._

 _Ignis_.

A familiar voice he couldn’t place, calling from far away.

 _Oh, please_. Ignis tried to swim toward the voice, but his arms and legs were pinned, held in place by some force unseen in the darkness.

 _Ignis, calm down_.

 _I’m dying, you fool!_ This time, when Ignis opened his mouth, no water rushed in. Air. Sweet, delicious air. He sucked it down in big gulps, chest heaving.

“Ignis! Ignis, can you hear me?”

“G-Gladio?” Ignis’s throat felt raw, his voice cracked and broken. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t see, but he could _breathe_.

“Yeah, it’s me. Calm down. You’re safe, Iggy.”

“I...what...” Ignis swallowed. His head was spinning and throbbing, a hundred times worse than any migraine. And that was nothing compared to his eyes, which felt as if someone had shoved shards of glass and gasoline beneath his eyelids, then lit a match.

“I’m gonna let you go now,” Gladiolus said. “But you gotta lie still.”

The force pinning Ignis down vanished, and he realized he was lying flat on his back on something soft. A bed? Though his limbs still felt sore and heavy, he tried to sit up, Gladio’s hands immediately on his shoulders.

“Dammit, Iggy. What’d I just say?” Gladiolus growled. “You gotta-”

The sudden wave of nausea must have shown on Ignis’s face, because there was immediately some sort of receptacle below his chin. He lurched forward and retched up bile and sea water.

“C’mon Iggy.” Gladiolus took the bin away and wiped his mouth. “You gotta rest.”

“W-water,” Ignis rasped. Gladiolus helped him drink, then Ignis settled back down on the pillow. “I...I can’t see.”

“You got a bunch of bandages on your face,” Gladiolus replied. “Let me get the doc.”

“Wait. Noctis...where’s Noctis?”

“Asleep.” Gladiolus made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. “Well...unconscious. Docs say he’s fine physically, that it’s ‘magical’ - like it’s got something to do with the power of the Hydraean.”

“I should-”

“ _No_.” Gladiolus was on him before Ignis could attempt to sit up once more. “You should _rest_. Prompto’s sittin’ with Noct now.”

“You two are...?”

“We’re fine, Iggy. You just about scared the shit outta me, though.”

“Oh, I...I’m sorry.”

“No, Iggy. _I’m_ sorry.” Ignis’s mind was working sluggishly at best, but Gladio’s voice suddenly seemed to grow thick, almost angry, and he couldn’t fathom why.

“W-what?”

“By the time I found you, you were already hurt. Hangin’ on to some piece of debris to keep your head above water. If I’d gotten there sooner...”

The last thing Ignis could remember was an explosion. “There was...there was a child?”

“Dunno, Iggy. You were the only person I saw. Lemme go get the doc, okay?”

A door shut somewhere off to Ignis’s right. A part of him knew that the doctor Gladiolus had gone to fetch wasn’t going to bring good news, but he was in too much immediate discomfort to care. Instead he focused on the Prince - it had always been easier for him to worry about Noctis than himself. _Hold on, Noct_ , he thought. _I’ll be back by your side soon_.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis spent most of the day sleeping; the medicine the doctors gave him for the pain made him drowsy, plunging his mind into a fog - a welcome relief from fretting about the Prince and his own condition.

Which was precisely what he was doing when there was a knock at the door to his room.

“Come in,” Ignis called. He eased himself up into a seated position, biting back nausea and the throbbing pain in his head. The bed seemed to lurch and spin underneath him, like he was intoxicated - one of many reasons he’d only been truly drunk just the once.

“I’m back.” Ignis tried to concentrate on Prompto’s voice, to center himself on the sound.

“How’s Noctis?” he asked.

“Still out,” Prompto replied. There was the sound of a something sliding across the floor. A chair? “But his fever’s come down.”

Ignis sighed, tentatively fingering the bandages over his eyes. At least the Prince’s condition was giving him time to recover. The medics said the coverings could come off in a few days, but it would take weeks for the wounds to his face to completely heal. And even then, his eyes... Ignis pushed that thought away. _One thing at a time_.

“Sorry it took so long,” Prompto went on. “It’s a mess out there. But the Regalia’s still in one piece!”

Ignis had sent Prompto to, first of all, _find_ their car, and secondly to retrieve everyone’s things, since it was clear that between himself and Noctis, they were going to be in Altissia for a while.

He didn’t bother asking Gladiolus to do anything - although barely injured during the Empire’s attack, the man seemed worse off than Ignis in some ways, operating under the ridiculous notion that he could have and should have saved everyone - Ignis, Noctis, even Lady Lunafreya; every conversation they’d had since Ignis woke ended with an argument, so Ignis decided it best to leave him to his mood.

There was the sound of a zipper being undone and then Prompto announced, “One can of Ebony, coming up. Want it hot?”

“No. It’s just fine as is.” Ignis felt a cool can of the blessed brew pressed into his hand, and he immediately popped the tab and took a sip. _Splendid_. After choking down nothing but water and bitter medicine for the past twenty-four hours, it tasted somehow even better than usual.

“And here’s your phone charger. Want me to plug it in?” Prompto asked.

“Please.” Ignis wasn’t sure if his phone had been damaged in the attack - it had been in his pocket, after all, when he’d taken that Imperial mortar to the face - or if the battery had simply died. There was only one way to find out. “Will it turn on?”

“Let’s see...hey, it works!” Along with the Ebony and news of the Regalia, it was another small victory in a sea of stunning defeats.

“Whoa, you’ve got a ton of messages...uh, not trying to be nosy or anything, they just popped up when I turned it on.”

Ignis didn’t particularly want to give Prompto his password, but he could hardly work the touchscreen without sight. And, injured or not, it was still Ignis’s job to stay informed. So, he had Prompto punch in the code and read through his notifications, making a mental note to change it as soon as he was able.

“A lot of stuff from someone named Valeria So-leal.”

“Soleil,” Ignis corrected. _Val_. Of course, Noctis’s bout with Leviathan - and the Empire’s corresponding attack - would have been all over the news by now. And of course Valeria would have known Ignis wouldn’t have been far from the Prince’s side.

“It says: ‘ _Iggy, are you alright? Text me when you can_.’” The messages increased in alarm from there. “Wow, Ignis. Wait...do you have a _girlfriend_ ?” There was awe in Prompto’s voice. “And you _didn’t tell me all about her?"_

“Prompto,” Ignis hissed.

“Noct and I have this theory that you don’t actually ever sleep, so-”

“Prompto.” Ignis began to shake his head but was stopped by a lancing pain behind his left eye. “Now is _really_ not the time.”

“I know, I know,” Prompto said. “Sorry. You wanna call her back?”

Ignis wasn’t ready to talk to Valeria. She would want to know what had happened, what had happened to _him_ , and saying it aloud meant he had to face it.

“Send her a message. Say, ‘ _We’re safe. Still in Altissia. I’ll call you later_.’”

“Okay, and...sent!” The phone almost immediately buzzed in response. “That was fast! It says, uh, ‘ _Who is this?'"_

Ignis sighed. “You didn’t use any punctuation, did you?” He probably didn’t spell Altissia correctly, either.

“No. Why would I?” The utterly earnest way Prompto responded made Ignis sigh again. _Bloody hell_ , he thought. So much for putting Val’s mind at ease. And buying him a few more hours for a miraculous recovery.

“Well,” Ignis said. “Best to tell her the truth.”

“‘ _It’s Prompto_.’” Prompto narrated aloud as he typed. “‘ _Iggy’s here too_.’”

Ignis nodded for him to send it, internally cringing at the thought of how Prompto was butchering the written word.

He settled back on the pillows stacked against the headboard, sipping his Ebony, his hand drifting to the skull charm nestled between his collar bones. At least that was still there, attached to the chain around his neck. He never would have forgiven himself if he’d lost it; it was only a _thing_ , a small piece of jewelry - but also a part of _her_ that he’d carried with him on this long, hard road. He couldn’t bear to lose that, not now.

“Um...” Whatever it was that Prompto sat on squeaked and creaked, undoubtedly due to his constant fidgeting. “You feeling any better?”

“From the hour when we last spoke?” Ignis asked, trying not to frown since it caused him so much pain.

“Well, it was more like three hours ago, but, yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”

Ignis sighed. “No, I...you needn’t apologize. I appreciate the concern for my well-being. And this.” He tipped the can of coffee in Prompto’s direction.

“Well, _duh_.” Prompto sounded...embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Ignis was quickly realizing just how difficult it was to judge someone’s mood based solely on the sound of their voice.

“So, uh... Are you _sure_ you don’t want to tell me about your girlfriend?”

“Pesky little bugger, aren’t you?” Ignis grumbled.

“Oh, my bad.” Prompto snickered. “I mean ‘girl-space-friend.’”

“I’m honestly shocked you were aware such a phenomenon existed,” Ignis said.

“Hey! Iris is totally a ‘girl-space-friend.’” Prompto then added, under his breath, “She is pretty cute though...”

Ignis almost felt the ghost of a smile grace his lips. “I would strongly caution you not to say that in front of Gladio.”

“Dude, I know,” Prompto replied. “But like, your ‘friend’...”

 _My duty comes first_ , Ignis almost caught himself saying. But Prompto wasn’t questioning his priorities. “What about her?”

“I dunno,” Prompto said, most likely shrugging. “...Is she hot?”

“ _Prompto_.” This time Ignis _did_ frown, in spite of way it caused the wounds on his forehead and cheek to scream.

Prompto’s sheepish laugh was interrupted by the ringing of Ignis’s phone. “Hey, speak of the devil,” he said. “It’s her.”

“Blast it,” Ignis muttered.

“You don’t want to answer?”

“Seems I have little choice.” Ignis held out his hand. “Some privacy, if you please.”

“Right, right.” Prompto handed the phone over and shuffled out the door.

“Hello? Is this Prompto?” Valeria sounded panicked. “I want to talk to Ignis. Right now.”

“Val.”

He heard her let out a long sigh of relief. “Iggy! Thank the Six. Are you alright? Why did that kid have your phone? I thought you might be in a coma or something.”

“I’m very much awake, I assure you.” Beyond that, he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to worry her, but he couldn’t lie to her either.

“I heard half of Altissia was underwater. Both the Hydraean _and_ the Empire attacked. I don’t...it’s like the world’s gone mad, Iggy.”

“Well, they attacked one another. Which went about as well as you can imagine in a crowded city.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Gladio and Prompto are fine. Noctis remains unconscious with fever, but the medics assure us he’ll pull through. Lady Lunafreya...” Ignis sighed. He was dreading giving Noctis the news. “Lady Lunafreya is gone.”

“The Oracle’s dead?” Valeria’s voice sounded very small on the other end of the line.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why... _Gods_. Why are they doing this?”

A dozen political and economic reasons came to mind, but after wading through water stained red with blood, Ignis could only shrug. “I don’t know.”

They sat in silence for several moments until she caught him. “What about you?”

“What?”

“You mentioned all the others. What about you? Are you hurt, Iggy?”

“I...” What could he say? That it wasn’t serious? That it wasn’t permanent? Even in the absolute best case, neither of those things were true. “It’s not life-threatening.” He knew that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her, but part of him needed her to coax it out of him, to ease him into this new reality.

“Ignis.” Valeria’s voice was quiet, concerned. “Tell me what happened. _Please_.”

Ignis took a long draught of his Ebony, trying to steel his nerves. He wasn’t keen on reliving what had happened down at the pier, but knew the sooner he did, the sooner he could start to move past it. And Noctis was going to need him when he woke up.

“We were evacuating the citizens on the lower levels of the city. The Empire - well, as I said, their attempts to shoot down the Hydraean caused much collateral damage. I remember the flash as the mortar exploded, the Imperial craft in the distance...then everything went dark. When I next awoke, I was here, at the First Secretary’s estate.”

“Oh, Iggy...” He was glad she couldn’t see him like this - weak, blind, bandaged up - but part of him wished she were here, by his side, holding his hand and assuring him it was all going to work out in the end. He had to be a certain way for the others - they _needed_ him to be a step ahead, to be in control, to have a plan. With Valeria, he could just be what he was - terrified and in pain.

“Did you...did you hurt your hands?” she asked. “Is that why Prompto was on your phone?”

“No.” If only he’d had enough time to react, to bring them up to protect his eyes. But both his arms had been full, carrying that injured woman and her son. “It, ah... It went off near my face.”

“Oh my Gods, Ignis...”

Ignis tried to keep his voice level, clinical. “Barely a concussion, which was quite lucky under the circumstances. And I’m told the sight in my right eye should return after the swelling goes down.” That wasn’t entirely accurate; the medics had told him his vision _might_ return in _some capacity_. But he had to be optimistic until he had a reason to be otherwise.

“And...your left eye?” Valeria asked. Her voice was shaking.

It throbbed in response. “They managed to save it, although it won’t do me much good.” He heard a noise that sounded like a sob on the other end of the line. “Val? Val, please don’t cry. Not for me. I’ll be alright.” His days of throwing knives might be over, but if he got his vision back on his right side, he would be fine. Mostly.

“But it’s not alright. You’re _hurt_.”

“And it could have been much worse.” He recalled the sensation of drowning with a shudder. If Gladio hadn’t found him when he did, it was likely the Hydraean’s waves would have swept him out to sea for good.

“You don’t have to do this, Iggy,” she said. “You don’t have to be strong for my sake. It’s okay to be sad, or scared, or...whatever it is you’re feeling. You can tell me.”

Ignis took a deep breath to center himself. “Thank you, Val.” He _was_ scared. He was absolutely terrified. “Could you just...just tell me about your day?” _Take me somewhere else for a while_.

“Of course, Iggy. Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about Val's ordeal in Chapter 8 - you'll find out what's been happening with her in the upcoming chapter. For now, she's keeping it from Ignis since he's already got enough to worry about.


	11. Chapter 11

_Altissia_. _Ignis_. In spite of what had happened to her, it was all Valeria could think about once she’d heard the disastrous news. _Please don’t leave me, Iggy. Not you_.

It had taken her half a day after Caligo first put his hands on her to compose herself, to devise a means of concealing herself from the monster, at least for a time.

Valeria had traded one of her mother’s diamond earrings for a flashlight, canteen, and a handful of spare batteries - an absolutely terrible deal under better circumstances, but as things were, such items would serve her far better than any jewelry. She’d then gathered her paltry belongings and left the Imperial encampment, shutting herself away in one of the power substations she’d earlier helped to restore. She knew if Caligo really wanted to track her down, it would be a place he’d eventually send his men to search, but with no one willing to take her in - not while she wore the mark of Imperial ire so plainly on her face - Valeria could think of nowhere else to go. At least there she had privacy.

Her beating hadn’t caused her to receive any sympathy from her fellow Lucians; something she was no longer expecting, but secretly yearned for all the same: a kind word, a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, anything to quell the horrible, pervasive sense of loneliness that was consuming her. But people didn’t want to get involved, especially when half of them thought she was some kind of traitor in the first place.

She hadn’t dared call Ignis at first; not because she thought the Niffs were capable of spying on her even when she was alone, but for the simple fear that she’d immediately burst into tears, and he didn’t need that, not while he was trying to navigate the Prince through the complicated mire of Accordan politics.

Instead, she swallowed her pride and attempted to contact her father, who, predictably, did not answer when she desperately needed him the most. He was probably out with his ‘girlfriend,’ or some other, new woman who’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for the sob story he’d undoubtedly concocted regarding his dead ex-wife and missing daughter.

Valeria had remained hidden away in the substation for several days, cursing her father’s wanderlust and the excruciating pain in her face, until hunger and thirst finally forced her outside. Her plan to quickly grab some rations, refill her canteen and disappear were immediately derailed by the news of Altissia practically being sunk by the Hydraean’s waves.

 _Oh, Gods. Ignis..._ Caligo, Loqi and the rest be damned - she’d sent Ignis a flurry of messages, desperate to confirm that he hadn’t drowned along with half of the city.  _If he dies... No_. She couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought.

When she finally did hear back from him, the news hadn’t been good. He was alive - and thank the Gods for that - but he was hurt. Badly. And knowing Ignis, it was probably even worse than he’d let on.

But for now, all she could do was wait, pray, and hide.

 

* * *

 

Several days later, on her next foray for provisions, she had the misfortune of rounding a corner and running directly into Loqi Tummelt.

“Damn,” he said, eyes scaling her up and down. “You look like shit.”

Valeria immediately scanned the vicinity for an escape, backing toward it. “Get away from me,” she hissed.

“Come on,” Loqi said, shaking his head. “Is that any way to talk to the man who saved your life?”

With his leg fully healed, he quickly moved to block her exit, easily arresting her attempts to push him aside.

“I said _get away from me_ ,” she repeated, with the futile hope that all the bruised, battered one hundred and ten pounds of her somehow managed to appear threatening to this armored soldier.

Loqi crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I liked you better when you were trying to kiss my ass.” He regarded her for a moment, Valeria unable to quell her trembling, her instinctual fear that they were going to _hurt_ her again.

“Just chill out,” Loqi said, sounding more annoyed than empathetic. “I’m not going to hit you. Unlike that idiot Ulldor, I know that you can’t tell me shit with a broken jaw.”

Valeria met his gaze with her eye that wasn’t partially swollen shut. “What do you need me for? Prince Noctis is on the news, fighting the Hydraean in Altissia.”

“ _Was_ in Altissia,” Loqi said. “I’m sure your boyfriend’s whisked him off to some other hidey-hole already.”

The reference to Ignis caused Valeria to glower at him, as best as her bruised face would allow. _My_ **_friend_ ** _can barely get out of bed, thanks to you people_.

“Ulldor’s headed down there to search for him anyway,” Loqi went on, a grimace forming around his colleague’s name. “Like I said, he’s a moron. Me? I’d prefer to make a deal.” His grin was so smug, so self-satisfied, it made Valeria nauseated.

When she didn’t respond, he went on. “My terms are simple: give me the Crown Prince’s location, and I’ll make sure the Empire spares your boyfriend’s life.”

“So this is why you ‘saved’ me.” She couldn’t help but sneer. “You want to hand in the Prince yourself.”

Loqi’s expression darkened to one of indignation. “Of course I do. Ulldor got his ass captured and beat up, and they toss him a damn promotion? You know what I got when the Blockade fell? I got yelled at for four hours and sent to this shithole. At least I _fought_!”

“Yes, life sounds like it’s been _so unfair_ to you,” Valeria muttered sardonically.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Loqi replied. “This is a good deal. You’ve gotta know there’s no way the Crown Prince and his - what? - four buddies are going to win this war.”

The thought had crossed Valeria’s mind far more times than she was willing to admit, but it always circled back to Ignis and his assurances that it _was_ possible. Somehow.

“They’re going to get themselves caught sooner or later,” Loqi went on. “And believe me when I say that your boyfriend will be very, very lucky to face the firing squad.”

Valeria inhaled sharply. “You’re talking about torture.”

“Eh.” Loqi shrugged. “More or less, I guess. Let’s just say, Imperial R&D doesn’t like to waste good human test subjects.”

 **_Human_ ** _test subjects_? In spite of herself, Valeria shuddered.

“I’m not sure what they’re doing over in One-Five, but trust me - you don’t want your boyfriend to end up there.” Loqi jabbed his thumb into his chest. “ _I_ can make sure of that.”

 _Sector 1-5...the Manufacturing District_. The Manufacturing District that was off limits, even after they’d restored the power.

Valeria’s eye went wide. “They’re...they’re doing human experiments in the Manufacturing District?”

Loqi shrugged, seemingly unaware or uncaring of what he’d inadvertently let slip. “Dunno. They don’t even let _me_ in there. But I know whenever the Research guys set up shop, it’s not to hand out candy. Look,” Loqi shifted his weight. “You don’t have to tell me anything right this second. Just think about it, okay? We both know how this is going to end.”

 

* * *

 

After gathering more food, water, and trading for a few more batteries, Valeria threw on her coat against the evening chill and exited the relief camp, frequently looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Even now knowing that Caligo had left the city, her mind was hardly at ease. She was certain the vile man had left people to watch her, to catch her doing exactly what she was about to do, but she was almost positive she was alone now.

She walked to the end of an empty, narrow alley and sat down on the curb facing the street so that she’d see anyone who came along, and pulled out her phone. Calling Ignis was a huge risk, she knew, but after hearing about what had happened in Altissia, she couldn’t help herself. And worrying about his injuries distracted her from her pain, Loqi, and everything else.

“Hello?” The slow, quiet way Ignis answered the phone sounded so unlike his usual brusque, confident self. And the uncertainty in his voice made her conclude that he still couldn’t see who was calling.

“It’s me.” Valeria hoped she sounded upbeat. It was hard to do when your mother was dead, when your city was grey rubble, when half your face was black and blue, when your dearest friend was hurt and suffering half a world away. But she tried, for his sake.

“Val.” Was that relief in his voice? A modicum of cheer? Ignis sounded so weary, so used up, it was hard to tell.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

“A bit,” he replied. “The headaches have begun to abate. As have the dizzy spells.”

“That’s good.” No mention of his vision, which meant her hunch was correct: he still couldn’t see. She desperately wanted to believe what he’d told her, that it was only a matter of time before his right eye, at least, was back to normal, but she _knew_ Ignis. He loathed being fussed over, loathed being out of control. Valeria didn’t think he’d outright lie to her, but it was very much like him to minimize the severity and prognosis of his injuries. If only she’d asked that Prompto when she’d had him on Ignis’s phone.

“How are you?” he asked, trying - and not quite succeeding - at a conversational tone.

“I’m okay.” _As long as I don’t look in a mirror_. Like Ignis, she had intended to give him a somewhat whitewashed report about what Caligo had done to her, but had decided not to trouble him with it at all after finding out about Altissia. The monster was gone, so she was, theoretically, safe from his wrath for the moment. And Loqi’s ‘offer’ didn’t even bear mentioning, as far as she was concerned.

“Noctis woke yesterday,” Ignis said.

“Oh?” There was some good news. “How is he?”

“Despondent.” Ignis sighed. “In spite of his attitude toward the wedding, he cared deeply for Lady Lunafreya.”

“The Empire’s blaming it on the Hydraean.” It was all anyone was talking about, that the Oracle was swallowed by the wrathful Leviathan’s waves.

“It was the Chancellor.”

Valeria frowned, which in turn caused her to wince. “The Imperial Chancellor killed Lady Lunafreya?”

“Indeed. Noct saw the whole thing. I wonder-” Ignis stopped, made a sound like a stifled groan, before going on. “I wonder if he acted alone -  without Imperial sanction that is. There’s something very... _wrong_ about that man.”

“Well, he’s a Niff...”

“It goes beyond that.” Ignis paused, likely lost in his thoughts. “Anyway, I admit I’m glad to finally be rid of that place.”

“Altissia? You left?”

“This morning. We’ve a long road to Cartanica.”

“Cartanica? You’re going all the way to Cartanica?” Were they crazy? That was getting dangerously close to Niflheim proper - a perilous journey under any circumstances, but with Ignis injured and Noctis a hunted man...

“The site of the final Royal Tomb,” Ignis explained. In Cartanica? Valeria didn’t understand why a Lucian King would make his tomb so far from home - Ignis probably _did_ know, but she wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson.

“You’re still hurt,” she said.

“It will take more than a week to reach our destination.”

Valeria sighed. As if he’d be back to full health within a week. They both knew that was utter nonsense, so she didn’t bother to state the obvious.

“Are the others looking after you?”

“I’m fine, Val.” Ignis sounded exhausted - likely tired of trying to convince himself.

“You are not _fine_ ,” she insisted, “and that’s _okay_ , Iggy. It’s okay to be down once in awhile. Even for you.”

“I have to see this through. I _must_.” His voice had grown quiet, thick with emotion. If they had been somewhere alone together, somewhere no one else could see, she would have forced him to let it all out. But she knew he couldn’t do that, not in front of the Prince and the others.

Valeria huddled against a sudden chill, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I know you do. Just...come back, Iggy. Please.” _You’re all I have left_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit on the short (relatively speaking) side! I have part of the next chapter ready to go, but it didn't make any sense to end on that scene, so it'll just have to wait until next week. I'm looking forward to nearing the end of the game's storyline and venturing into the World of Ruin!


	12. Chapter 12

After clearing the final Royal Tomb in Cartanica, the group had reboarded the train, and Ignis had laid down on bottom bunk of their sleeper car after showering and almost immediately passed out from sheer exhaustion. Exploring the murky swamp of the abandoned mine had left him physically battered and emotionally drained, far more than he was willing to admit to the others.

He only hoped his words had left some lingering effect on Gladiolus and Noctis - their little party was already beset on all sides; internal bickering was the last thing they needed, and he absolutely wouldn’t tolerate it being on his account. The pair of them had at least seemed cordial in the few moments Ignis remained awake after his head hit the pillow.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed before he woke, only that it must have still been night time (although the definition of night was apparently getting rather murky these days); the car was quiet, save for Gladiolus’s constant snoring and the rhythmic rumbling of the train riding the rails.

All the bruises, bumps, and scrapes he’d gotten trying to make his way around the slick, uneven terrain of the Caestino had truly begun to ache in earnest, each pain a protest from his body to remind him that continuing on this journey literally blind was a foolhardy venture. But he had to. He couldn’t abandon his friends, his King, no matter the toll it took on him.

Still, the pain was enough to prevent Ignis from falling back asleep, and it kept those pesky, intrusive doubts circling around his mind. Suppressing a groan, he sat up, felt around the end of the bunk until he found his jacket, and pulled his phone and sunglasses from the pockets. As quietly as he could manage, he rose and fumbled around for the door. Unlike his suite in Altissia, which had seemed chasmally large, everything on the train was narrow and cramped, which meant it was only a short matter of time until he bumped into what he was looking for.

Once in the corridor, Ignis slid the door shut behind him and sat down against it to ensure he didn’t lose his way. And to ensure that he didn’t frighten any fellow passengers who might happen to be about, he donned his sunglasses, covering up at least some of his scars. He had yet to get a straight answer out of Prompto about just how bad it looked; Gladio would tell him the hard truth, but the man had been too moody to bother.

Ignis pushed the home button down on his phone and instructed the device to call Valeria. He could at least manage to do that much on his own.

It rang several times before a sleepy voice mumbled on the other end of the line, “Hello?”

“I apologize. It’s late.” _I think_.

“Iggy... It’s fine.” Valeria still sounded only half-awake. Ignis felt guilty for rousing her, but he needed someone to talk to, someone to help him clear his head. “Are you...is everything okay?”

“It’s alright,” he said, gingerly rubbing the sore spot on his knee where he must have fallen at least a dozen times down in that bloody swamp. “We got what we came for. We’re headed to Gralea now.”

“Gralea...” Valeria sighed and Ignis heard a shifting sound in the background, like she was sitting up in bed. “A lot of the Niffs are talking about Gralea. It sounds like things are getting pretty bad there, like the MTs have gone berserk.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Ignis said, making a mental note. “Magitek running amok might work to our advantage.”

“You’re going after the Crystal?”

“Indeed,” he replied. “And if we happen to bump into the Emperor or the Chancellor, we’ll bump them off for good measure.”

“Do you really think killing them will change anything?” Valeria asked.

“Cut off the head of the snake...”

“And its heart keeps beating.” Given his current traveling companions, he forgot that such an analogy was less demonstrative on someone who had actually paid attention in biology class.

“For a time,” Ignis conceded. “But it lacks direction and purpose. The Empire has already overextended itself. Without those men holding it together, it will surely crumble.”

“I hope so, Iggy. If nothing else...” Valeria sighed. “They deserve to pay for what they’ve done.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there.” They sat in silence for a spell, Ignis taking a quiet sort of comfort in the steady sound of her breathing on the other end of the line.

“Ignis.” Valeria’s voice dropped, her tone gentle and forlorn. “Your eyes... They aren’t getting better, are they?”

He exhaled sharply, shifting on the cold floor of the train. Somewhere on the ride to that swamp, he’d accepted it, accepted that he’d never again see the sun rising over the Citadel, never watch himself and his friends grow old and grey, never look upon her lovely face once more. He’d accepted it, and yet it was so damn hard to say out loud.

“No,” he finally admitted. “I...no.”

Valeria let out a long sigh, as if she’d already known his answer. “I’m so sorry, Iggy. It’s like...it’s like it’s all a bad dream. But it’s not. Everything’s gone wrong.”

 _We’ll put it right_ , he thought. The things that could be fixed, anyway. “Tell me, Val. Do you think I’m being selfish? By insisting I continue on, despite my... _impairment_.” The word left a sour taste in his mouth, one that he knew he had best get accustomed to.

She paused. “Reckless, maybe. Not selfish.”

Ignis frowned. “‘Reckless’ isn’t a word I usually like to associate with either.”

It was a few moments before Valeria spoke. “You said it yourself: ‘Cut off the head of the snake’ and the rest falls apart. Do you really think the three of them can penetrate the Imperial capital without you?”

“Hmm...through sheer force, perhaps. But, certainly a more clandestine approach would prove most effective.”

“You need a sharp mind for that, Iggy. Not eyes,” she said gently. “I...I can’t begin to fathom how difficult this must be for you, but you mustn’t doubt yourself. You can do this. The others can tell you what you can’t see.”

It _was_ difficult - extremely, painfully difficult - to ask the others for help with basic things right in front of him, that he should have just been able to _see_ , but he knew he had to stop thinking of it that way. They didn’t seem the least bit chagrined when they called on him for his historical or political knowledge, for battle strategies, for advice. He would just have to start thinking of it as a give-and-take now, instead of just giving.

“You’re right, of course,” Ignis said.

“I usually am.”

That elicited a small smile from him, perhaps the first real smile he’d had since he woke to constant darkness.

“I miss you. Terribly,” he said suddenly, without thought. “Ah, forgive me. I know you don’t like it when I say such things.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” Valeria’s voice had grown thick. “It just... _hurts_.”

“I know.” Ignis didn’t want to hurt her either; but it was the circumstances, not him. “When we finish in Gralea, we’ll be coming back to retake the Crown City. Noct could use another sharp mind, one that has first-hand knowledge of the Imperial occupation.”

“Are you offering me a job?” Ignis was relieved to hear her resume her normal, glib tone.

“I can’t guarantee you any sort of steady pay. And, at the moment, the food is quite lousy, but I assure you that the chef plans to rededicate himself to the craft as soon as he is able.”

“Hmm...” Valeria mused. “A job working for the King. I guess I could do worse.”

“Much worse.”

“Plus, I heard that his chamberlain is stylish _and_ brilliant.”

Ignis felt heat rising in his cheeks and a fullness spreading in his chest. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed her playful flattery until now, how good it felt to be handled by something other than kid gloves.

“I don’t know about all that, but I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Valeria got off the phone with Ignis, she buried her face in her knees and sobbed. _I miss you_. _I miss you_.

 _Dammit, Iggy_ , she thought. He was marching into the heart of the Empire, the Empire that had destroyed their home and killed her mother, the Empire that had blinded him and murdered the Oracle, the Empire that had by all accounts lost control of its own monstrous creations. The possibility that she might never see him again was very high, very real, and too much for her heart to bear.

And even if he did make it back to her and to Lucis, he would never _see_ her again, period. That thought caused her to cry even harder.

He was acting so strong, so stoic about the whole ordeal, but she knew him and knew he had to be suffering, not only with the sudden physical limitations, but even more psychologically, and the only thing she could do about it was try to give him some kind words over the phone. It wasn’t enough.

She wanted to take him and disappear somewhere safe and quiet, where there were no kings or princes or emperors, where she could just hold him close and let him know that he was wonderful just the way he was. That _he_ was enough.

Valeria hated this world and what it had done to him and to her, to the thousands just like him and her who had been ripped apart by other men’s ambitions. And the worst part of it was that she could see no end in sight. Even if they somehow managed to succeed, if Noctis managed to retrieve the Crystal and kill the Emperor, it would still come back to war. Men like Caligo Ulldor would rise up in the Emperor’s place, and there would be more death, more destruction, more daemons. All that would be easier to endure by Ignis’s side, it was true, but that wasn’t comfort enough to stem her tears.

 _I miss you_. _Terribly_. Valeria missed him too. And she missed the mornings of waking up before dawn, being the first one in the office and the last one out. She hadn’t even been particularly _happy_   with that life, but at least it was steady, safe, and stable. At least then, surrounded by her employees and shareholders and business acquaintances, she could convince herself that she wasn’t all alone. That all her years of schooling, her sacrifices, her daily existence was all for _something_ , even if that something had never really been her choice all along.

Now, she was no one, just an ID number on a bracelet, another faceless refugee to be herded by the Empire, to pasture or to the slaughter. It didn’t make any difference to the Niffs. Everyone who had ever cared about her was either dead or far away. And even though she was surrounded by hundreds in the exact same situation, she still felt all alone. No one had the energy to care anymore. All she had now was that lingering fear that the Niffs would come and haul her off again, this time for good.

Caligo Ulldor would be returning to Insomnia soon - and empty-handed, since Valeria knew Ignis and the rest were on an entirely different continent - and Loqi Tummelt wasn’t going to leave her be in the meantime. She wouldn’t entertain his proposal, not even for a second - despite her real fears that this war would end exactly as he predicted, she knew that Ignis wouldn’t want to be spared, not at the cost of the Prince’s life. He’d placed Noctis’s life above his own since he was a child; he would never just lie down and accept his own safety.

There was only one thing to be done: Valeria had to leave. She didn’t know how she would avoid the soldiers and all the blockades, and she certainly didn’t know what she’d do with herself if she managed to make it outside the city walls, but she knew to remain here much longer was a death sentence.

Valeria’s experience outside the Crown City was limited to meeting her father for lunch at a diner once every few months, where he always made the same bad jokes (“Well, I guess you don’t need any money”) and forced her to pose for a photo with a rusty old Kenny Crow statue or some other stupid landmark. But Ignis had spent a considerable amount of time roaming the Lucian countryside, and had surely made at least a few allies along the way - hopefully ones that would be willing to put her up until the Prince and his entourage returned.

There was just one last thing Valeria had to do before she left. _Human experiments in the Manufacturing District_. Felix had been the only person who’d showed her any sort of kindness or friendship, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to abandon him, especially to a fate as terrible as that. If it were her - no, if it were Ignis - she would hope that someone would at least _try_ to help.

Valeria set her jaw and wiped her face with her shirtsleeve. _Enough crying_. Her tears would help exactly no one. And enough sitting around and waiting. Waiting for Ignis to come back, for the Niffs to cart her off, for someone to take pity on her.

The world may have gone mad, but her fate was still her own.

 

* * *

 

It seemed that, for Ignis, Tenebrae Station was never meant to hold pleasant memories.

He’d been here once before, a long time ago, traveling alongside the uncle he’d just met to a kingdom he’d only ever heard about in bedtime stories. He couldn’t remember the layout of the station or how it had looked at that time - much as that might have aided him now that he was unable to see - but vividly recalled the bright cordovan leather of his shoes, polished to a sheen for his parents’ funeral. Five-year-old Ignis had stared down at them, his feet hanging off the bench as he waited on the train, trying to understand just why he had to go far away, how Mummy and Daddy weren’t ever coming back home.

He’d been confused, terrified by the uncertainty of his future - much the same as twenty-two year-old Ignis was feeling now. The uncle that had taken him in was dead, the faraway kingdom he’d come to think of as home laid in ruins back across the sea. And him, scarred and without sight, in service to a young, unprepared King, with no army or resources to take down a seemingly infinite Empire. The outlook was as dark and murky as his ruined vision.

Adding to that was the more immediate concern for Prompto, snatched by that snake of a Chancellor for ends Ignis couldn’t quite bring himself to contemplate. In many ways, Prompto was the most vulnerable member of their group, and Ignis knew he wasn’t the only one who’d begun to think of him as something akin to a younger brother during their journey. A sentiment Ardyn Izunia was almost certainly counting on.

Something hard and unyielding collided painfully with his side, snapping his attention back to the present. Ignis grunted, swallowing a curse aimed more at his own infirmity than the sudden throbbing just above his hip.

“Watch out, Iggy.” Ignis felt Gladio’s broad hand on his back, steering him away from whatever it was he had just run into.

Poor choice of words aside, Ignis knew Gladiolus was every bit as unprepared and uncertain on how to behave in this situation as he himself was. Ignis constantly vacillated between wanting to assert that he could manage just fine on his own, and gratitude for a familiar guiding voice or hand when he found himself adrift and rudderless in the endless sea of darkness. But this was _his_ burden, his deficiency, and it was his responsibility alone to instruct the others on what sort of assistance he did or didn’t require.

With that in mind, Ignis stopped, calling out Gladio’s name. “We ought to restock our supply of curatives.” They were certainly going to need as many potions as they could carry if they were going to make it through Gralea intact. “Surely there must be a vendor near the station.”

“Sounds good,” Gladiolus replied, sounding about half-interested. “Shop’s off to your left.”

Ignis waited, listening for Gladio’s footsteps and the creak of his leather jacket as he moved, but nothing happened.

“Are you...occupied with something?” Ignis asked, frowning in confusion.

“Huh?” Gladiolus replied. “What are you asking me for? You’re the one who knows about all that crap.”

Ignis’s frown shifted from one of confusion to consternation. “I...I can’t...” _I can’t read the prices, I can’t see what’s in stock, I can’t even be certain of how much gil is in my own bloody wallet_.

“‘ _I can’t_.’” Gladio’s tone was almost mocking. “Words I never thought I’d hear coming out of Ignis Scientia’s mouth.”

Ignis parted his lips to retort, but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, spinning him to his left. “Stall’s about forty feet in front of you.” Gladiolus pressed a crumpled wad of paper into Ignis’s hand. “Here’s five thousand gil. Don’t let ‘em rip you off.”

Ignis stood there for a moment in indignation before he heard Valeria’s voice in his head. _You can do this_. Then he understood. Gladiolus wasn’t cutting Ignis loose to humiliate him, but because he, despite his earlier objections, believed in Ignis as well. _You can do this_. _You can do this_.

Squaring his shoulders, Ignis made his way forward, silently counting steps as he went. At thirty-four, his cane struck something - hopefully the shop stall.

“Uh...” Ignis cleared his throat, praying he wasn’t speaking to empty air. “Pardon me?”

To his right, there was the sound of creaking wood, and then creaking joints, and Ignis shifted toward it, his free hand finding the stall’s counter.

“My word!” The voice belonged to a woman, who must have been quite old from the way she rasped and half of her body seemed to click and pop as she moved. “My word!” she declared again.

Ignis frowned. He knew his scars were obvious, even behind his sunglasses, but at least Aranea had brought it up with some tact.

“Good afternoon,” he said flatly, hoping to move the transaction along.

“Oh, that posh voice! It really takes me back,” the shopkeeper crooned. “I haven’t heard highborn speech like that in years! Aside from Lady Lunafreya, of course. Stars guide her soul.”

 _Oh_ , Ignis thought, feeling slightly chagrined. _She was startled by how I speak_. He was well-accustomed to his accent being regarded as a peculiarity, a topic of idle conversation, but here in Tenebrae, particularly to the older set, it was a very real, tangible indicator of class and status.

“Have you come to see to the Manor, m’lord?” She sounded so hopeful, Ignis almost felt guilty for his response.

“Just passing through, I’m afraid.” He wasn’t certain if the Imperials had bombed the ancestral home of the Fleuret family or merely set it ablaze, but either way, the acrid smell of smoke made its way to the station with every passing breeze.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” the woman said with a sigh. “I guess they’re just going to let it burn... Anyway, what can I do for you, m’lord?”

Ignis didn’t bother correcting her about his title. He doubted a woman who had spent decades addressing anyone who spoke like him in such a manner would suddenly stop now that he asked her to.

“What...er, what do you have for sale?”

“Everything I’ve got listed here.” He felt her tap on the counter. “Best prices in Tenebrae, m’lord.”

“I, uh... I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you for some assistance.” _It’s her job_ , Ignis reminded himself, trying to chase away the embarrassment that Ignis Scientia, best and brightest of his day, couldn’t bloody read a list of inventory right under his nose.

“What...? Oh, oh my word!” the woman whispered, then he heard scrambling as fast as her aging joints would allow. “I am _so_ sorry, m’lord. I’m over here with my head buried in a book, not paying attention, and I-”

“No need to apologize.” Ignis held up his hand to arrest her babbling. “If you could just tell me what’s for sale, please.”

“Of course, m’lord! Now, let’s see...” The shopkeeper ran through the inventory and prices - which weren’t terrible, but he highly doubted they were the _best_ in the country - and Ignis was able to procure a full set of restoratives, throwing in a few extra for Prompto. Ignis wanted to be prepared for anything (well, _almost_ anything - he couldn’t quite bring himself to prepare for the _worst_ ) when they found their erstwhile companion.

With the bag in hand, Ignis turned around and made his thirty-four steps back to Gladiolus.

“Well, well. Look at that,” Gladiolus said playfully. “What was it you were saying before?”

Ignis shoved the change into Gladio’s burly chest. “Don’t push it, Gladio.”

But despite the bag full of potions, Ignis had to admit he felt just a little lighter than he had before.


	13. Chapter 13

Valeria knew what she was doing was dangerous - stupid, even - but Caligo’s beating had knocked something loose in her that left her teetering on the edge of rationality. She stuffed what little she had in a backpack, armed herself with a flashlight and spare batteries, and set out for the nearest subway station an hour before the Imperial-imposed curfew took effect (ever since the days had begun to inexplicably grow shorter, the Niffs kept pushing it back, earlier and earlier). Though it wasn’t a route she’d ever taken in her other, normal life, Valeria knew the Manufacturing District had its own subway stop if she followed the tracks westbound, and, since the trains still weren’t running, she didn’t think the Niffs bothered patrolling underground.

It was, predictably, dark inside the station, and she swung the flashlight around, illuminating the platform with its eerie blue-white beam. There were signs and posters for businesses still boasting their sales and deals, unaware that the world they belonged to no longer existed. The newsstand remained as well, abandoned by its clerk but appearing otherwise almost achingly familiar, plastered with headlines from months ago.

After a moment of hesitation, Valeria grabbed a handful of candy bars and shoved them in her bag; it felt a little wrong, like stealing, even though she knew nobody would mind. She hopped off the platform onto the tracks, tossing a rock first just to make sure nothing was somehow still electrified. It wasn’t. When she came to the end of the station, where the tracks narrowed into a tunnel, she stopped, her heart pounding far harder than necessary for a walk. _It’s so dark_...

This was what Ignis saw all the time, now - and without even the narrowest sliver of light from a flashlight. Rather than dwelling on just how damn _sad_ that was, she set her jaw, told her legs to stop shaking and start moving. _If he can do this for the rest of his life, I can do it for a few hours_.

And like Ignis must have also been doing now, she found her other senses straining, on high alert. It was silent down here, almost impossibly so, the only noise being her footsteps echoing off the walls of the tunnel. The air was musty and stale, like an old tomb.

But as she progressed through the dark tunnel, the smell grew fetid and thick, like something rotten. Something _dead_. Buzzing swarms of flies, scattering and swirling around her flashlight, only served to confirm it. The realization caused her pulse to quicken, but she quickly chastised herself.

Of course there was something dead down here. Despite the city’s best efforts to keep things clean, all sorts of vermin made these dark tunnels their home, and without humans passing through and leaving behind scraps and garbage, most of - if not all - the creatures must have starved to death. She only hoped the same fate didn’t befall her after she left the city. _Worth the risk_ , she thought. _To be free of the Empire_.

Valeria stepped on something soft and squishy, that simultaneously crunched under foot. Angling her light at the ground, she saw a banded tail at one end, whiskers and a small snout at the other. And in between was a mess of black fur and congealed blood, writhing with dozens of white, squirming maggots.

Valeria recoiled with a shriek, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from retching. That rat hadn’t just died; it had been torn apart. _Gods_... She scraped her shoe against the train tracks and quickly scanned the rest of the area with her flashlight. There was more blood, more swirling clouds of flies, but no more rats - living or dead.

 _No turning back_. As startling and disgusting as it was, _it_ was just a dead rat. Valeria quickly pressed forward, this time taking more care to examine the the ground ahead. After rounding a bend, she finally came upon the stop for the Manufacturing District, pulling herself up onto the platform where thousands of workers used to wait every evening for the train. Sensing movement in her peripheral vision, Valeria spun, shining the flashlight all around, but there was nothing there. _Damn_ , she thought. She needed to get this over with and get the hell out of the city before paranoia overtook her completely.

Dropping her bag at the base of the stairwell, Valeria switched off the flashlight and tucked it inside her coat pocket, crouching as she crept up the steps. The fresh, crisp air hitting her face felt every bit as refreshing as a cold glass of water on a hot day. The sun had already begun to set, but there was still enough light to see by as she poked her head out into the street. Empty.

Valeria darted out from the subway entrance to the corner of the nearest building, leaning to peer around it. Two blocks away she saw a pair of Imperial soldiers guarding the entrance to a four-story factory building. _So it’s true_. Loqi may have been lying about the human experiments (she hoped), but the Niffs were up to _something_ here.

Though the guards appeared lax - one was sitting on a pail and smoking a cigarette, while the other traced lazy circles in the gravel with the toe of his boot - Valeria knew she’d never be able to get past them directly. So, she went around to the other side of the building, finding a row of street level windows. The glass was grimy with dirt and dust, but remained transparent enough to see through. She saw abandoned offices beyond, probably once occupied by managers or other administrative types, now host to empty desks and dusty bookshelves.

The third window she tried was unlocked. It whined a little on its hinges, causing Valeria to duck under the desk as soon as she was inside. _This is insane_. The rational part of her brain was screaming. But now curiosity had her in its steely grip, as much as any desire to find the missing Felix or to gather information for Ignis.

After waiting a few agonizing minutes, she was satisfied that no one had heard her and crept to the door, opening it just wide enough to get a view of the hallway. Aside from a single, old lightbulb glowing overhead, the coast was clear. The Niffs, it seemed, were not using this part of the building much at all. Valeria followed the hallway around on tip-toe, dropping to her knees when she saw that the door at the end of the corridor had a window built-in.

Slowly, cautiously, she raised her head to survey what had once been the factory floor. Now it was a maze of plastic sheeting, vaguely reminiscent of the relief camp, lit only with a dull, reddish light, similar to that of a photographer’s darkroom. Unlike the tents back at the camp, this material was not entirely opaque, and she saw black, vaguely humanoid shapes moving in the distance. Were those Niffs? People who had been taken? There was only one way to find out.

Valeria pushed the heavy door open just wide enough for her to slide inside, immediately gagging at the overwhelming stink of antiseptic, so strong it stung her eyes and nose. Crouching, she inched forward toward the shapes in the distance, ignoring the way the awkward position caused the muscles in her legs to burn.

“And I still haven’t heard from my sister,” a voice, male, said.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” a woman replied, her tone casual, almost flippant. “Gralea might be a mess, but I’m sure they’ve got Zegnautus locked down tight.” Both people sounded slightly muffled, like they were wearing masks or helmets.

Valeria turned a corner in the strange red, plastic maze, confronted with something that resembled an operating table - empty, fortunately, but the thick leather straps attached to the sides made her feel vaguely queasy.

“Still, I wish my transfer to the Keep had gone through,” the man was saying, his voice much nearer now.

“Might be for the best that it didn’t,” his companion replied.

“You’ve got to be joking,” the man said. “The chance to study the Crystal - that’s once in a lifetime stuff we’re talking about.”

“Like the Chancellor lets lab rats like us near the Crystal.” The woman scoffed. “Why do you think he locked it up in Zegnautus in the first place?”

 _The Crystal. Zegnautus Keep_. Valeria had only begun to contemplate that very valuable information when something caught her eye, something that threatened to make her forget everything she’d heard and seen up until now.

Through a small gap in the plastic sheeting where two edges didn’t quite meet, she spied another gurney, only this time there was something strapped to it. It was human in shape - two arms, two legs, but at least eight feet tall, far too long to be a person. Spindly fingers, each longer than her entire hand, hung off the side, twitching and shaking spasmodically. The skin appeared stretched taut, gray and purple like a bruise. And, though the creature’s head was covered by some sort of sheet, it was most certainly still alive, emitting a gurgle as it inhaled, a rattle when it exhaled. It was still alive, even though its chest had been wrenched open, cracked, blackened ribs split in two and reaching up toward the sky.

Two people, clad head to toe in shapeless suits of black plastic, hunched over the monstrous, broken thing, continuing their idle prattle about their careers. Sheer horror and lack of comprehension kept Valeria glued to the spot, unable to turn away.

The smaller of the two people - the woman - pulled something resembling a black, sticky hunk of meat from the creature’s open chest cavity, filling the air with the stink of sulphur. She placed it on a small scale on the counter behind her.

“Liver weighs 8.3 kilograms,” she said, as her partner scribbled something down on a clipboard.

“That’s what? Five times the average human size?” the man asked.

The woman shrugged, placing the organ into a jar. “Something like that. Pancreas next?”

 _No_. Valeria began to walk backwards, shaking her head. They were dissecting that thing - a daemon, it almost certainly had to be a daemon - while it was still alive. And regardless of how foul and allegedly dangerous daemons were supposed to be, there was something still inherently _wrong_ , inhumane about it - the kind of crude savagery that passed for science in primitive societies, not the here and now. And, if they were doing this to daemons, how could she say they’d draw the line there? Why not animals? People?

 _Oh, Gods_... Valeria turned and quickly tried to retrace her steps, getting turned around and disoriented in the eerie, red labyrinth. It all looked the same. She dashed out the first door she saw, ending up in a darkened room. _This place, these people..._ , she thought, trying to quell the sick feeling mounting in her gut. _Loqi was right about everything_.

“...home...”

Valeria jerked to attention, flattening herself against the wall.

“I want...home...” The voice was a raspy hiss, its affect flat, almost robotic.

“W-who’s there?” Valeria whispered, trembling fingers reaching for the flashlight in her pocket.

“Home home I want to go home I want to go home I want to go...”

The way this person (thing?) spoke put her in the mind of a parrot, mindlessly repeating the same phrase without comprehension of its meaning.

Valeria switched on her light. The wall opposite her was lined with cages, each roughly the size of a kennel for a large dog. All were empty, except one.

A naked figure huddled against the bars, its skin sickly gray-white, large swaths of its body coated in some dark, oil-like goo. Spiky bones protruded from its emaciated back, longer and sharper than vertebrae should be. Tufts of long, blonde hair clung to its withered skull. The creature hissed and scurried away from the flashlight beam to the corner of its cell, and Valeria saw a single eye glowing bright in the darkness, reflecting the light like a cat.

“You...” This thing, it _couldn’t_ be human. But it talked like one, still looked like one in spite of its ghastly exterior.

“The light...it burns. It burns it burns...”

There was a rattling gasp, and then the voice changed from its mindless repetition to one that was desperate, thick with emotion. “The light, please, _please_.”

Valeria’s heart clenched. That begging, that imploring tone - she could no longer deny it. This was a person. A person the Niffs had done something horrible to.

“I...I’ll turn it off,” Valeria said, flicking off the flashlight.

“ _NO_!” Just as the room plunged back into darkness, the captive charged forward, colliding into the bars of its cage with a clang and a snarl. “No no no, the light, all the light, please, _please_...before I forget...”

“Are there...are there others like you?” Valeria was almost afraid to ask.

The prisoner ignored her. “Please, please, I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to...not again...”

Valeria swallowed, sinking against the wall. She aimed her flashlight directly at the cell, squeezed her eyes shut, and turned it back on.

There was a terrible, shrill scream, and, in spite of herself, Valeria’s eyes snapped open to see the figure doubled over on the floor, its skin burning black and crisp wherever the light touched it. It was shrieking in pain, revealing a mouth half-full of yellow, pointed teeth, but it clung to the cell bars to stay in the light, even as its fingers turned to char.

“I’m sorry,” was all Valeria could whisper to it. “I’m so sorry.”

A mass of black bile foamed from its lips, cutting off its cries. The viscous liquid spilled out onto the floor, stinking once again of sulphur, just like the daemon’s blood back on the factory floor. After what seemed like a gallon had spilled out, the unfortunate thing finally slumped forward against the bars, completely still.

 _Oh my Gods_ , was all Valeria could think. _This isn’t real_. _This_ **_can’t_ ** _be real_. But the very real sound of shouts and pounding footsteps reminded her she wasn’t dreaming. Jumping over the black pool on the floor, she ran out a door located on the far side of the room, and straight into a guard.

The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, but his shock was greater than hers, and Valeria dodged to his side, running toward a larger set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

“Hey!” a gruff voice shouted at her as she tumbled down the stairs onto the outside street. Another set of hands tried to grab her arm, but she wrenched herself free.

“Stop! Stop, dammit!”

Valeria didn’t even hear them. She was solely focused on the subway entrance several blocks away, her salvation. She could lose them in the dark, lose them and get away from this horrible place. The guards in all their armor were no match for her sprinting down the street, which they must have realized, as they began to shoot at her instead.

The sound of machine gunfire only caused her adrenaline to spike further, layering another horrible night on top of this one, heightening her singular instinct to flee. The shots went wide, chipping away brick overhead, and she half-ran, half-fell down the steps to the subway station below, somehow managing to grab her bag at the base of the platform.

Valeria leaped onto the tracks and began to run, startled by the strange, skittering sounds all around her. _Something_ was down here now, scurrying away from the beam of her flashlight, clutching at her ankles and shins.

She whirled around, trying to kick whatever it was off, just in time to see the guards coming down the stairs.

“Shit! Daem-” The guard’s voice was cut off as something long and sharp was shoved into his gut. His hand must have seized on the trigger of his rifle on instinct, its muzzle flashes briefly illuminating the horned, black carapace of the multi-legged monster impaling him.

She heard a scream and a crunch off to her right and spun around, her flashlight illuminating the twitching legs of the other guard protruding from the maw of a dark, gelatinous mass.

 _Run_. It was her mother again, in her ear. _Run_. _And don’t look back_. So she did. She ran, clutching her flashlight, her only weapon against the darkness. She could hear the creatures behind her, beside her, swarming the tracks and subway walls. Valeria swung her light all around in an attempt to ward them off, briefly illuminating twisted limbs, claws, teeth. If the attack on Insomnia had been hell on Eos, then this was something far worse, something even the darkest recesses of her subconscious could not have conjured if it tried.

Finally, after an eternity, the monsters relented, but she still ran, ran until she came to the final subway stop and was back out on the street. It was still nighttime, and she stumbled over to a patch of moonlight, collapsing on her knees until she caught her breath.

 _I’m sorry, Felix_ , she thought. _I’m sorry I’m such a coward_.

But if she’d had any small, lingering doubts about leaving the city, they were most definitely gone now. Valeria picked herself up, her legs trembling like jelly with exhaustion, and made her way through abandoned backstreets and alleys to the Wall. She could see the floodlights from where the Niffs patrolled their blockades, but the King’s passing had left the structure crumbling, and it wasn’t long until she found a crack just wide enough for her to squeeze through.

And, without turning back, she left Insomnia, her city, her home, behind.

 

* * *

 

Ignis sat alone on the empty train car, crossing his arms to ward off the encroaching chill as they left the relative safety of Tenebrae and neared Ghorovas and the Glacian’s frozen corpse. He had insisted that Biggs and Wedge keep the heat running at a minimum; the last thing they needed was to run out of fuel before they reached Gralea.

Gladiolus had gone off to scavenge the dining car for supplies, brushing off Ignis’s concerns that it was tantamount to theft (“Who else is gonna use this stuff, Iggy?”), while Noctis had remained asleep in his bunk. Whatever information he’d received from the retainer of House Fleuret had left him in a depressive mood, and, while Ignis refrained from prying into his liege’s private affairs, he nonetheless hoped that some rest and solitude would suffice to ease his melancholy.

Without Prompto there to goad them into optimism, the bleak reality of their situation had descended upon the remaining trio like a dark cloud. _Just a bit longer, Prompto_ , Ignis thought. If anyone could cling to hope of a rescue, it was him.

To Ignis’s surprise, his phone began to ring, the electronic chime echoing loudly throughout the vacant car. He extracted it from his pocket, thinking he really ought to get his caller ID sorted out (Prompto, the most tech-savvy of their group, had been assisting him with the various voice-operated features of the device prior to his abduction). There were only three people it could have been: Prompto, although he almost certainly would have called Noctis first; Valeria, whom Ignis hadn’t heard from in several days, causing him yet _another_ worry; or Noctis himself - and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time the Prince had called Ignis from less than two hundred feet away.

“Hello?” Ignis said as he took the call.

“Zegnautus.” The voice belonged to Valeria, although he could barely understand what she was saying. She sounded shaky and out of breath, and that was compounded by bursts of static as one or both of their phones dropped the signal.

“Zegnautus Keep...Crystal...Zegnautus.”

“The Crystal’s in Zegnautus Keep?” Ignis asked. They’d deduced it was somewhere in Gralea, but this was incredible news, perfectly in line with Aranea’s suspicions on the matter, allowing them to narrow their search to a single (albeit large and likely extremely well-guarded) building.

“Yes! Listen, I....go, Iggy. I couldn’t...”

“Val, slow down,” Ignis implored. “I can barely hear you. Are you alright?”

“I couldn’t stay here.” That phrase came across loud and clear before her next sentence was swallowed by a buzz of static. Just what had she done to come by this information on the Crystal?

Ignis wanted to ask, but with their phone service being what it was, he reluctantly decided that it was a conversation for another time.

“Go to Cape Caem,” he said slowly, careful to enunciate every word. “Gladio’s sister, Iris, is there. You’ll be safe.”

“Caem? That’s...Hello, Iggy?”

“I’m still here.” _Curse these bloody things_. “Go to Cape Caem,” he said once more. The only word he could make out in Valeria’s reply was ‘car,’ and it occurred to him that Caem was much too far of a journey to undertake on foot, particularly for someone with absolutely zero survival or combat training outside the city.

“Hammerhead Garage,” Ignis said. “The mechanic is a friend. She’ll get you set up with a vehicle.” _Hopefully not a particularly valuable one_. Valeria was, well...Ignis didn’t want to say an _awful_ driver, but he did sometimes wonder how she had managed to pass the practical portion of the test. Even so, she ought to be able to travel from Hammerhead to Caem without causing a _major_ accident.

“Hammerhead...Caem. Okay.” For a moment, the static cleared, and Ignis heard her voice as plainly as if she were sitting beside him. “The Empire, they’re doing _terrible_ things, Iggy. Whatever it takes, whatever you have to do - _stop them_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flexing my horror writer muscles a bit here... As you can probably tell by the tone of this chapter, I intend to do a pretty dark take on daemons and the World of Ruin. Once we got the revelation in-game that daemons were originally people, it kind of annoyed me that they mostly appeared as various standard monsters in the franchise (flan, bombs, tonberry, etc). Ravus's fate was really the only instance that felt appropriately horrific for the concept, and I'm definitely going to be leaning more toward that approach with this story.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, but I really like it as its own chapter. I plan to post another update sometime this weekend, so keep an eye out for it!

When Noctis disappeared, when Ardyn walked away seemingly unscathed from their attacks, no words were exchanged between the young King's Crownsguard. No one needed to state the obvious. They’d failed.

And as they made their way out of the Keep and the daemons began to spawn in overwhelming numbers (at least as far as Ignis's working senses could tell), Gladiolus, Ignis, and Prompto remained silent as they drew their weapons. This was the end of the road.

Ignis felt no fear of death, of pain, just a weary sadness that it was all over, that he couldn’t be the advisor, the _protector_ that Noctis needed. That he’d never return home to Insomnia and the Citadel. That he’d never see _her_ again.

 _Regis...Noctis...forgive me_. He struck out with one of his daggers at the nearest sound, slashing through the air until the blade connected, turning the monster’s snarl into a gurgled hiss.

 _Val...be strong_. There were so many daemons that Ignis seemed to hit something no matter where he attacked. He was vaguely aware of Prompto’s guns firing off round after round, the ground trembling as Gladio swung his greatsword. There was no joy in the fight, and no fear. They were resigned to their end.

Suddenly, a cold consumed the area, so fierce and abrupt it sucked the air from his lungs and the heat from his bones. Involuntarily, Ignis’s knives slipped from his grasp, his body huddling for warmth on reflex.

“What...the hell...is this?” Gladiolus choked out through a clenched jaw. Prompto’s teeth were chattering so badly they seemed likely to break in his mouth.

Ignis felt several _somethings_ float past him, and then icy fingers were around his shoulder, caressing his cheek, soft as a lover’s kiss. The only sound apart from the three of them struggling in the cold was the soft chiming of hundreds of icicles hanging in the air.

“The Glacian,” he sputtered. He had been unconscious when Shiva had appeared to Noctis on the train, but the way the Prince had described the encounter was identical to what they were witnessing now.

In spite of the cold, Ignis forced his hand outward to see what had become of the creature that had been trying to destroy him seconds ago. Another set of icy fingers, frigid and stony but somehow gentle, wrapped around his wrist and guided him toward a large mass, hard as steel and smooth as glass. The daemon was frozen solid.

“Dearest friends.” A chorus of female voices, nearly identical in tone and pitch, spoke in unison, the sound coming from all around him. “Despair not. The King of Kings yet lives, slumbering in Bahamut’s embrace.”

King of Kings? Did they - it - mean Noctis? It somehow didn’t seem right to interrupt a Goddess with questions.

“Abide in hope, brave companions. When the Ring waxes full, the Chosen King shall return and restore the Light to this world. Your strength is His strength. Your will, His resolve. Go forth now, and hold back the Darkness in His stead.”

And just like that, Shiva was gone. The cold lessened to something a bit more bearable, but the Keep was still enveloped in frosty silence, a hushed stillness punctuated only by the sounds of Ignis and his companions breathing. Even the ever-present hum of machinery had stopped.

It was Prompto who spoke first. “The...'the Chosen King.' That’s Noct, right? He’s...he’s still alive, _right_?” The desperation in his voice mirrored Ignis’s own feelings.

He tried to keep his voice level. “I...I believe so.”

“Who else could it be?” Gladiolus said.

“He’s with...Bahamut? So, he’s safe, right?” Prompto was pacing.

“I imagine being under an Astral’s protection would be the safest place to be,” Ignis replied.

Gladiolus grunted. “So, what? We’re not good enough?”

Ignis sighed and bowed his head. “We played right into the Chancellor’s hands.” _We failed_. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say that aloud.

“But, wait. If Noct is with Bahamut...why would Ardyn want that?” Prompto asked.

“An excellent question. Perhaps...perhaps the Chancellor _wants_ Noctis to kill him.” Prompto made a confused noise, so Ignis went on. “We saw for ourselves that weapons can’t harm him. Perhaps...” Ignis would have to ponder on it longer than a few seconds to figure it out. “Perhaps attempting to apply logic to a madman is an exercise in futility.”

“Yeah, and perhaps we should get out of here before these things melt,” Gladiolus said.

“The Glacian froze everything?” Ignis asked as Prompto grabbed his arm.

“Everything but us,” Prompto replied, leading him through a winding forest of frozen monsters. “So, uh...how exactly are we supposed to get out of here?”

Ignis thought for a moment. “Prompto, do you think that codeprint of yours can unlock Imperial aircraft?”

“Maybe?” Prompto squeaked out.

“Worth a shot,” Gladiolus said. “Hangar’s this way, I think.”

 _Noctis is alive_ , Ignis marveled as they walked. The Glacian’s words had been predictably cryptic, but that much was clear. His king, his charge, his _friend_. Alive, and safe. For now, that was all that mattered.

Gladio’s heavy boots echoed off the high walls of the hangar as he roamed around. “This one looks like it’s in pretty good shape.”

Prompto took Ignis over to the aircraft in question and took a deep breath. “Here goes.”

A moment later, there was a click, and then a _hiss_ as the vehicle’s door slid open. Gladiolus practically shoved Ignis inside. He felt around until he found seats; Ignis sat in the one furthest from the cockpit.

“You actually know how to fly this thing?” Gladiolus asked as Prompto sat down.

“I mean...it can’t be that different that thing I stole in Altissia. Right?” Prompto gave a nervous laugh.

Gladiolus snarled. “Prompto, I swear to the Gods, if you kill me in crash when I could have died in battle...”

Ignis had to admit, if he had his druthers, he would have also preferred to go out in a blaze of glory, rather than a blaze of metal and gasoline.

“I know I needn’t remind you, but I highly doubt the Astrals will intervene twice on our behalf.”

“It’s cool,” Prompto said, sounding anything but cool. “I can do this.” He continued to repeat that phrase under his breath as he fiddled with something in the cockpit.

“Better buckle up, Iggy,” Gladiolus said.

Ignis doubted that would be of much help if Prompto flew them into the side of a building, but he did as he was told.

“Okay, here we go,” Prompto said as the engine rumbled to life. Then suddenly the craft lurched forward before coming to an abrupt stop, and Ignis was glad he’d heeded Gladio’s advice.

“Heh, heh...uh...okay. Okay, it’s this one,” Prompto mumbled to himself.

This time when the craft shot forward, it didn’t stop. Ignis gripped the back of Gladio’s seat and his stomach lurched, not entirely due to becoming airborne. He felt himself being pushed back in his chair with an increasing and alarming amount of force, like they were trying to pierce the heavens.

“Too steep, Prompto!” Ignis shouted. Then they suddenly began to pitch downward.

“Level it out,” Gladiolus growled.

“Okay, okay,” Prompto said as the craft began to take on some degree of normalcy. “I think I got the hang of it.”

Gladiolus made a skeptical snort that echoed Ignis’s own sentiments. “Don’t get cocky, flyboy.”

“There should be an altitude gauge on the dash,” Ignis said. “Try to keep the needle in the middle.”

“Unless we’re going to hit something,” Gladiolus added. Ignis thought that went without saying, but perhaps it didn’t in this case.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Prompto replied. “So, uh, where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Gladiolus shifted in his seat, then cursed. “Gralea’s _swarming_ with daemons.”

 _Bloody hell_ , Ignis thought. He certainly had no love for the Empire, but its seemingly overnight collapse would spell even more disaster for Lucis, at least in the short-term.

“Bear Southeast,” Ignis instructed. “That should put us in the vicinity of Duscae.”

“Then we wait for Noct and take back the throne,” Prompto said eagerly. The craft turned somewhat more sharply than Ignis would have liked. “How long do you think it will take him to come back?”

Gladiolus sighed. “Who the hell knows?”

Ignis frowned. “I doubt the Gods would have whisked him off only to return him overnight.”

“Maybe we should have asked,” Gladiolus said.

Ignis straightened his sunglasses. “I suspect the answer would have been just as cryptic as the rest. Gods have no concept of time, at least not like ours. My suspicion is that Noctis will not be returned to us imminently.” _When the Ring waxes full_... Ignis wasn't certain what that meant, but something about the Glacian’s phrasing seemed to suggest that they were in for a long haul.

“Then...we get stronger, right Gladio? We ‘hold back the Darkness,’ whatever that means,” Prompto said, determined. “Don’t you get it, guys? We’ve been given a second chance.”

 _A second chance_. Ignis liked the sound of that. “Indeed,” he murmured. _This time, I shall not fail_.

Prompto’s unflappable optimism seemed to have lifted Gladio’s spirits as well. After a while spent in silence, he said, “Hey, Prompto. Was that your first kiss?”

“Whaaa-?” Prompto spluttered.

Ignis leaned forward. “What’s this, now?”

“One of those...Glacian _things_ gave him a big, fat smack on the cheek.”

“ _It was not my first kiss_!” Prompto insisted, perhaps a little _too_ defensively. “I’ve kissed, like, tons of girls!”

Gladiolus snorted. “Your mom doesn’t count.”

Ignis grinned. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Prompto. In fact, I’d say getting one’s first kiss from an Astral is quite the boast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the bros are incredibly loyal, but I have a really hard time believing they just _waited_ for 10 years without _some_ indication that Noctis was at least okay - and from someone a little more trustworthy than Ardyn. Since Shiva/Gentiana has been following (creeping on) them throughout the journey, I can totally see her looking out for the bros in the interim. She understands how important the Brotherhood is to Noctis, and the eventual fulfillment of his destiny.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! - I know I said I was going to post this over the weekend, but ended up getting sucked back into FFXIV... (◡︿◡)

After slipping out of the city and calling Ignis, Valeria made her way on trembling legs across the bridge that connected Insomnia to the Lucian mainland, careful to stick to the relative safety of the moonlight. With Imperials stationed at both ends, she didn’t dare turn on her flashlight in the darkness. The bridge was littered with cars that seemed long-abandoned, and Valeria couldn’t help but wonder if their occupants had ended up as test subjects at that horrible ‘research’ facility.

Knowing she was too exhausted to make it much further, and almost certainly unable to outrun anyone (or anything) else that wanted her dead, she tried the doors of the vehicles until she found one that was unlocked, climbed into the backseat, and passed out. Pure fatigue allowed her to sleep soundly for a time, but then the nightmares came, replaying the evening’s events over and over, only with her parents being torn apart by daemons in the subway, and Ignis trapped in the cage, begging her to put him out of his misery.

 _No_. Valeria sat straight up, rubbing her face. _It was only a dream_. A dream, but the things she’d seen _were_ real. Horribly, terribly real. Realizing she was famished, Valeria scarfed down one of the candy bars she’d taken from the subway station and tried to focus on Ignis’s instructions, garbled though they were. Go to Hammerhead, speak with the mechanic, and get a ride to Cape Caem.

The route to Hammerhead was vaguely familiar to her - her father had his motorcycle serviced there, so she usually met him at the diner for lunch while his bike was in the shop. But someone had always driven her to and from, and she usually sat in the backseat, sending work emails on her phone, oblivious to the road. Still, she thought, there was only one major highway out of the Crown City, so all she had to do was follow it until she made it to the station.

But first, she had to get off of the bridge. The sun was starting to rise, and Valeria was amazed she had slept so little after what had happened the night before. When she checked the time on her phone, however, she realized it was already a few minutes after ten in the morning...ten in the morning, and the sun was only now starting its ascent. _Gods_. It was as if the chaos and strife caused by the Empire had begun to bleed into the fabric of the world itself.

Valeria exited the car and crouched behind it, wishing she had binoculars to survey the Niffs patrolling the far side of the bridge that connected the road to the Lucian mainland. She resorted to using the zoom function on her phone’s camera; at such strong magnification, the image was blurry, but even then she could tell that the Imperial soldiers were turned away from her, focused on keeping people from the mainland _off_ the bridge, and not concerned with anyone who happened to be _on_ it. Even so, they were blocking the road, and her most direct method of escape.

She crept toward them, careful to stay as silent and as concealed as she could - just because they weren’t watching her didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn around if they heard some commotion behind them. That was when she noticed a sign about maintenance and followed the arrows to peer over the side of the bridge, spying water hundreds of feet below her smashing into the structure’s supports. And there, built into the column closest to the shore, was a narrow ladder for workers. _It’s just like descending a pylon_ , she tried to tell herself, rubbing her suddenly sweaty palms on her pants. _A pylon that’s really,_ **_really_** _tall_. Still, it beat trying to get through the Niffs.

Valeria secured her backpack on her shoulders, resisted the urge to hold her breath, and swung over the ledge, securing her feet on the first rundle. She kept her eyes fixed on the grey concrete in front of her, taking it slowly, one rung at a time, counting them for no other reason than to keep her brain occupied. The sound of the crashing waves and the salty smell of the sea gradually grew closer and closer, until, at a count of well over three hundred, her foot struck solid ground. _Oh, thank the Gods_. If she weren’t already feeling so filthy, she would have kissed the dirt beneath her feet.

The shoreline here wasn’t comprised of gentle, sandy beaches, but rocky boulders as tall as houses, made slick and smooth by the sea. Valeria might have been able to use a ladder, but she wasn’t even going to attempt to scale the face of a cliff. Instead, she followed the stony shore around until the terrain gave way to something more walkable, although she still had to take care with her footing so as not to slip and turn an ankle. Insects swirled and chirped overhead, muck and slimy moss squelched underfoot, and Valeria couldn’t help but cringe and wrinkle her nose, having always been of the mind that nature was best appreciated in a painting or photograph. She hoped that Gladio’s sister had more than just a tent set up in Cape Caem.

Eventually, she made her way back to the highway, the Imperial blockade into Insomnia at last far behind. _Now_ , she thought, _onto Hammerhead_. Valeria followed the highway at a distance, remaining at the edge of the forest, ducking behind a tree any time she heard the sound of an engine. Looking down at her muddy shoes, ill-fitting jacket, and grubby jeans, she couldn’t help but wonder if the mechanic there would even believe someone who like her could be a friend of Ignis’s and Prince Noctis. She supposed she could always mention her father - her scraggly appearance certainly vouched for their relation - but she was more likely to get stuck with an overdue bill than assistance and a vehicle.

There weren’t many other cars on the road, and an Imperial transport ship only passed by once overhead, unaware or unconcerned with a solitary woman on the ground (nonetheless eliciting more than a moment of panic on her part). Valeria caught glimpses of wildlife in the woods - real animals, not monsters - but they too were uninterested in her as she made her way toward the garage.

When the sun began to set - at a mere five o’clock in the evening - she headed toward runes glowing on a nearby hill: the unmistakable sign of a Haven. She’d read about these sites, blessed by the late Oracle to be safe from daemons, and heard about them again from Ignis, as his group always used them to set up camp. This particular Haven was vacant, the only signs of former occupants the remnants of a long-extinguished campfire.

With the sun down, the night began to grow cold - bitterly so, far chillier than it ever was after darkness fell in the city. Even if she’d known how to start a fire, Valeria had no supplies, not even a pack of matches. She ate another candy bar and drank some water from her canteen, and then curled in on herself, bringing her knees to her chest and pulling her coat over her legs in a vain attempt to preserve a bit of body heat. Her stomach was still rumbling, her throat was still dry, and she was shivering violently - hunger, thirst, and cold were things she had never experienced before, not truly, never suffered through like _this_.

So when her phone rang, when she saw it was her father of all people calling, she felt far too stripped down to be defiant.

“Dad,” she said through chattering teeth.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked.

“Everything,” she replied, shaking her head. “Everything’s gone wrong.”

“Dammit...” Her father sighed. “You know I’d come and get you, if I could.”

“Would you?” Valeria asked. _Would you really_?

“Of course I would, Valeria. But they’ve shut down all the ferries in and out of Accordo, honey. I can’t go anywhere, even if I want to.”

 _Of course you can’t_. Valeria couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. “You don’t get it, Dad...” She closed her eyes and saw her mother being shot, saw daemons tearing soldiers apart, saw Caligo’s plaster-casted fist and machine gun muzzles pointed at her face. “You never have.”

“Honey...”

“You left me _alone_ ,” she whispered. Part of her knew she was being unfair, that her father could hardly be blamed for all the horrible things that she’d witnessed in the past few months, that if he’d stayed, he probably would be dead too. But sometimes the person right in front of you was the easiest to blame.

“You belonged with your mother,” he said quietly. “The road is no place for a little girl.” After about twelve hours of it, Valeria didn’t think it was much of a place for an adult, either.

“Mom kept your ring,” Valeria suddenly said. She’d since taken to wearing it on the ring finger of her right hand.

“W-what?” There was genuine confusion in her father’s voice.

“Your wedding ring. She kept it. I found it when she died.”

“That...that old piece of junk?” Her father asked. “That’s what she used to call it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her mother had dismissed most things associated with her former husband as either frivolous, cheap, or downright stupid.

“Well, maybe she was going to dump it at a pawn shop or something. You know your mother - always out to make another gil.”

“Maybe she still cared about you,” Valeria said. “Even after all this time.” _Even after you left_. After all, Valeria, despite all her anger, and what she constantly told herself, still did too.  

“That’s...” Her father laughed awkwardly. “That’s simply not possible. Honey, listen. I’m going to come back to Lucis, okay? As soon as I can. I’m going to find you.”

Valeria pursed her lips into a grimace. “Sure, Dad.” After a decade of hollow words and broken promises, she knew better than to believe him now.

Too cold and too miserable to fall asleep, she laid awake most of the night, daydreaming about the warmth and comfort of her bed back in her apartment in Insomnia, and about Ignis, calling her to meet up for coffee, standing a little _too_ close to her to share an umbrella in the rain. _He’s going to come back from Gralea_ , she told herself, _he’s going to come back, and you’re going to find each other, and everything’s going to be okay again_.

With that comforting, albeit perhaps foolish thought, she finally drifted off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. When her eyes next snapped open, it was still dark. _Oh my Gods_ , she thought.  _I slept through the whole damn day_.

Valeria checked the time on her phone. Then she checked it again, and again, and again. It was just past noon...and the sun was _gone_.

 

* * *

 

“Dinner was positively splendid, Iris,” Ignis said, setting his fork down on his empty plate. “Thank you for the meal.” It truly was, and he tried his best not to be envious of her ease in the kitchen.

“It was _so_ good.” Prompto let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

“No problem!” Iris chirped. “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she added in a pointed manner, undoubtedly directed at her brother.

“I like your cooking, Iris!” Talcott offered.

It had been three weeks since Prompto (crash) landed the Imperial craft they’d commandeered near Ravatogh; Gladiolus had immediately taken off for Cape Caem to retrieve Iris and Talcott, while Ignis and Prompto made for Lestallum. To Ignis’s great dismay, there was no sign of Valeria near Caem, and, according to Cindy, she’d never made it to Hammerhead either. But Cindy had also informed him that Aranea Highwind and her men had also stopped at Hammerhead for repairs on their ship, and Valeria would have had no way of knowing that these particular Imperials were friends. _They must have frightened her away_ , Ignis surmised - but where else would she go in the meantime?

When Gladio returned to Lestallum, the three of them reunited with the Marshal, who had relocated Hunter headquarters to the city. He and Monica and a few of the more familiar Hunters believed their story about what had happened to Noctis, but to Ignis’s annoyance - and frankly, offense - most people seemed to think they were somewhere between befuddled and outright lying.

Even worse than that, however, was the fact that daylight had vanished along with their King. No one had seen the sun in two weeks. And without the sunlight to chase them off, the daemons’ numbers only seemed to multiply, driving more and more people to Lestallum and the safety of its lights.

The Marshal and the Hunters had taken on the monumental task of protecting the city, while the women of EXINERIS had swiftly ousted the mayor and her council - a coup of which Ignis didn't know all the particulars, but the authority a power company held in a world without sunlight was frighteningly clear.

On Ignis’s right at the dinner table, Prompto pushed his chair out with a squeak and gathered their dishes, the plates and cutlery clinking in his hands. His footsteps receded toward the kitchen of the Amicitia family suite - now their permanent residence for the unforseen future - before abruptly coming to a stop.

“Uh...the sink’s already full?” Prompto said. “Like, _really_ full.”

“Talk to Gladdy,” Iris said, her voice angled near the back of the suite toward the bedrooms. “It’s his turn to do them.”

“Gladio?” Ignis didn’t try to hide his chastising tone. Iris cooked for them; the least her brother could do was to clean up. And what sort of example was this setting for Talcott?

“What?” Gladiolus grunted. Ignis was sure he shrugging. “We ain’t out of clean forks yet.”

Ignis shook his head, preparing a lecture, when Iris walked back through the room. “I’m going to hang out with my friends,” she announced. “See you later.”

The suite door opened and shut, and then Gladio rose, the couch on the other side of the room groaning under his bulk a few moments later. Prompto rejoined Ignis and Talcott at the table.

“‘Friends?’” Ignis arched an eyebrow. “Has big brother vetted these new friends?” Iris was certainly a lovely and kind girl, and rapidly approaching the age where her brother needed to worry.

“They’re chicks,” Gladiolus said, the rustle of magazine pages coming from where he sat. “And they live down the hall.”

Nearly every empty space, including vacant hotel rooms, had been turned into tenement space for people from Lucis, Accordo, even Tenebrae and the Empire entering the city. Ignis’s own tiny apartment near the marketplace technically belonged to another man, a Hunter who’d left the city shortly before the darkness fell; after a week with no sign or word from the previous owner, the Marshal had insisted Ignis move in.

“Talcott,” Ignis said. “Isn’t it about time for your bath?” Ignis wasn’t actually sure of the time, but it _was_ a school night - he was glad education hadn’t fallen by the wayside in light of the recent, apocalyptic developments.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Talcott said.

“Off you go, then,” Ignis replied, although Talcott was already pushing out his chair.

After the boy shut the bathroom door behind him, a heavy silence descended upon the group, punctuated only by the sound of running water from the bath. Ignis knew the other two men were thinking the same thing he was - how they had stayed here with Noctis before, in what seemed like a lifetime ago, recalling the way he and Prompto had joked with Iris, how Ignis had utterly destroyed the lot of them at card games. Even with Insomnia in ashes, with their friends and relatives trapped or dead, things had felt simple back then. _Hopeful_.

 _He’s coming back_ , Ignis reminded himself. _He’s coming back along with the light_. The thought was comforting, but it didn’t fill the Noctis-shaped void in their company tonight.

“So, uh...” Prompto finally broke the silence. “I finally got a hold of my parents last night.”

Ignis turned toward him. “Are they alright?”

“Yeah, they’re okay,” Prompto said. “Gonna stay in Accordo for the time-being, but they’re safe at least.”

“That’s good.” Ignis was relieved for his friend, but he couldn’t help feeling a stab of jealousy as well. He’d been trying to call Valeria since they arrived in Lestallum - out of all his calls, he’d connected just once, only to get an earful of static and immediately lose signal. It was enough to give him hope that she was still alive somewhere out there in the darkness, whether back in Insomnia or elsewhere, but he wouldn’t be able to rest easy until she was within the lights and safety of the city.

“So, I guess I can go there if they end up kicking me out,” Prompto said quietly, his knee bouncing rapidly against the table leg.

Gladiolus grunted. “No one’s kicking you out.”

“They’re only turning away _new_ Imperials,” Ignis said. “Not evicting current residents. Besides, you’re a Crown citizen, with all the proper documentation.” Not to mention the decree of the King.

“Yeah, but...but what if my ID isn’t good enough?” Ignis was sure Prompto was wringing his hands.

“If that’s the case, then I’m in as much trouble as you, given the way I speak,” Ignis said.

“Not gonna happen,” Gladiolus said flatly. “Anyone messes with either of you - for any reason - I’ll kick their ass. It’s that simple.”

“You see, Prompto?” Ignis said with a bemused smile. “It’s that simple.”

“Okay,” Prompto said. The continued nervous bouncing of his leg indicated he wasn’t convinced.

Ignis decided to change the subject. “Prompto, could I trouble you for some assistance?”

Prompto slid his chair around the table to where Ignis sat. “Oh, uh...of course, Iggy. What’s up?”

Ignis held out his phone. “I need to send a text.” He was able to make and receive calls without any help from the others, but had yet to master sending text messages through voice commands alone. And he needed to be absolutely certain this one went through.

“Your girl?” Prompto asked quietly. Ignis hadn’t said much about it, not since Gladio returned from Caem, but his friends knew how desperately he had been trying to contact her ever since.

“Valeria,” Ignis corrected tersely. _She has a name...and she's not 'my' anything_.

“Right,” Prompto said. “So, what do you want it to say?”

“‘Come to Lestallum.’”

Prompto paused after typing it in. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Anything else could wait until he didn’t require the aid of a middle man. “Allow me to add: Lestallum is spelled L-E-S-T-A-L-L-U-M.”

“ _Duh_.” Prompto said, but there was a lengthy pause before he added, “And....‘ _send_.’ Think it’ll go through?”

Ignis frowned. The cell towers in Lestallum were still up and running (albeit getting increasingly bogged down by the constant influx of refugees), but outside of the city, once a tower went down - whether that was due to normal wear-and-tear or being overrun by daemons - there was no longer anyone dispatched to fix it. People had their hands full just trying to survive.

“I don’t know if it will work,” Ignis admitted. “None of my calls have gone through. But I have to try.”

“That’s right!” Prompto clapped him on the back as he returned the phone. At times, Ignis found the younger man’s near-constant optimism vexing, but at the moment it was reassuring.

She had to be safe. She _had_ to be. Ignis was bearing up as best he could under the circumstances, but he didn’t think he could handle another loss. And every day she spent outside the relative safety of Lestallum’s lights, the greater the danger became.

 _Stars, please guide her_. All Valeria had to do was get in range of a working cell tower to get his message. She was clever and resourceful enough to figure out the rest.

Ignis realized he had been stroking the screen of the phone since Prompto handed it back to him, as if he could somehow massage his message into being received. Fretting would get him nowhere.

Shaking the worry from his mind, he tucked the phone back into his shirt pocket and rose from the table, busying his hands and his head with the substantial mound of dirty dishes piled in the sink.


	16. Chapter 16

The building where Valeria was hidden might have been a tourist trap once, tucked away at a rest stop on a narrow stretch of highway, with cheap knickknacks still adorning the shelves. Anything edible was long gone, as were the proprietors. Now, she sat on the grimy tile floor with knees pulled to her chest, trying to stifle the endless groaning of her empty stomach, watching a roomful of strangers doing much the same.

She didn’t know these people, only happened upon them when she had fled down the road, and she didn’t want to know them either. Since the darkness fell, she’d only encountered two types of people - those who were cruel, and those who were bound to end up dead. And since this group had let her in without question and allowed her to share what remained of their light without demanding anything in return, she had a feeling they were the latter.

The electric lantern that lit the space and kept them safe from the monsters outside flickered and dimmed.

“Not long now,” an older man said wearily, tapping on the bulb.

 _Gods_. Valeria hated the sound of resignation in his voice. If she’d had the energy, if it wouldn’t have attracted every daemon in the vicinity, she would have shaken him and screamed at him not to give up. So many people were dead; it wasn’t fair to them to just give yourself over to the darkness.

And she didn’t want to die. She was as sure of that now as she was on the night when she’d fled from the Magitek soldiers that shot her mother. But this....this wasn’t living. Still, she had little choice until the sun returned.

She’d come upon a well-provisioned camp set up at one of the Havens, but the man in charge had stared at her hungrily and made some sort of vaguely disgusting insinuation about ‘earning her keep,’ so Valeria had moved on despite her starvation and exhaustion. Dignity was the only thing she had left, and at least out in the wild, the monsters looked like what they were, and didn’t bear welcoming smiles and open arms.

Outside the window of the shop, she could just make out a forest in the distance, the daemons flitting and cavorting back and forth through bare branches. Did they know there were people nearby, and were just waiting for the light to go out, for their chance to strike? Now that she’d really seen them, seen what daemons could do, the ways they could kill a man, she finally understood why King Regis had erected the Wall and gone to such great lengths to keep the Crown City sequestered from the outside world. What she would give to go back to that life of sheltered, blissful ignorance...

Valeria shook her head. There was no going back. And the only way to go forward was to survive. She took her phone from her backpack and held down the power button - she’d kept it turned off since her last opportunity to charge it, hours or days or weeks ago. Without the sun to mark the progression of time, she had no idea how long it’d been since she escaped from Insomnia, how long she’d been sitting in this abandoned shop.

The screen lit up, illuminating the dirty, somber faces of the strangers sat all around her. With the lantern dying, it might be their last line of defense against the darkness. As she looked around the room, surveying her companions, the device suddenly beeped and vibrated in her hand, nearly causing her to jump out of her own skin.

It was a message from Ignis. She didn’t know when he’d originally sent it, but there it was, there _he_ was, when she was at her lowest, like her knight on a golden chocobo.

 _Come to Lestallum_.

 

* * *

 

A week after Prompto had helped him send his message, Ignis’s phone rang.

“Ignis?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded small, uncertain. It was the loveliest sound he’d heard in a long while.

“Val!” Ignis exhaled and leaned against the nearest wall to steady his suddenly shaking knees.

“I got your message, Iggy. I’m here. Outside Lestallum.”

“You...Truly?” He needed to hear her say it again, to confirm this wasn’t some cruel dream.

“Truly.” _Oh, thank the Six_. “I don’t know if I can get in, Iggy. They’re turning people away.”

Ignis shook his head. “They won’t refuse a Lucian citizen. You have your ID, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Good,” Ignis replied, already throwing on his jacket. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you inside the gate.”

He fumbled for his cane by the door, heart pounding, fingers trembling, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t out of fear or anger or frustration. He was excited. There was trepidation there in the back of his mind as well - what would she think of his scars? Of the reality that he couldn’t see? - but all that pesky self-doubt could wait until he’d found her again, confirmed that she was safe and unharmed by his side.

 _Pull yourself together, Specs_ , he chided himself as he made his way down the rickety stairs of his apartment building. Even with the guards turning people away to the refugee camps just outside of town, the city was still crammed with survivors of the Darkness, well beyond any sort of proper capacity. Navigating the throng was a challenge for anyone; for a blind man it was a downright trial. Counting steps was pointless when you couldn’t even take a full stride.

Ignis pushed all thought from his mind and focused on the sounds and smells, the feeling of the ground underfoot. He quickly filtered out the distractions and concentrated on the landmarks: the salty, slightly charred scent of the tent that sold mystery meat at the end of the block; the raised seam in the pavement where they’d repaired the sidewalk that marked the end of the market district; and the increasingly loud hum of the massive lights that ringed the perimeter of the city to keep the daemons at bay. Under better circumstances, with his sight, it should have taken him no longer than twenty minutes to reach the gates; as it was, and as _he_ was, it took more than an hour.

He found himself being shuffled along by a harried guardsman into a throng of people apparently just like himself, waiting for friends and family on other side of the gate. Initially Lestallum had welcomed people of any nationality, but as the city became increasingly crowded, as it became more and more obvious that daylight might never return, the city began denying foreigners entry - starting with Imperials.

Conversations melded together, but he could hear more than one person around him shouting or pleading with the guards. How many families would never reunite thanks to the Chancellor’s treachery? Ignis certainly had no love for the Empire, but most of its citizens were utterly ordinary people, just like Iris or Talcott or Valeria, who had nothing to do with the attacks on Insomnia or Altissia. Even though he wanted to push his way through the crowd, evoke the name of the Crownsguard and demand Valeria be let in at once, he knew he could wait. Unlike so many of the others around him, all he had to do was be patient.

And so he was. Patience was something Ignis Scientia had been cultivating since he was eight years old. He squared his shoulders, crossed his arms in such a way that he could feel his phone the instant it vibrated in his pocket, and waited. And waited and waited. Electronic chimes announcing each hour throughout the city marked the time, along with an increasing stiffness in his legs and tiredness in his feet.

Until finally he felt it, a buzzing against his chest. It wasn’t his heart, but his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket.

“Val?” Ignis had to shout just to hear himself over the din.

“I’m here,” she shouted back.

This time, Ignis did push his way through the sea of people, mumbling his apologies as he bumped into backs and shoulders while continuing to listen to Valeria on the phone. He squashed the momentary feeling of frustration that bubbled up with the obvious thought that this would be so much easier if he could just _see_ her in the crowd.

“Iggy!” This time he heard her in stereo - not just through the receiver of the phone, but somewhere off to his left. Ignis spun in that direction, colliding with the person standing next to him, whose curse he promptly ignored.

“Valeria!” He called out into the crowd.

“Ignis!” She called out his name over and over again as they both pushed their way through, until she was standing right in front of him.

Something dropped at his feet and then Valeria’s arms were around his neck and he was pulling her tight against him. She smelled of sweat and dust and exhaustion from the road, and he drank in every bit of it, savoring the reality of _her_ , safe and finally here with him, at long last. And for one wonderful moment, he forgot about the daemons and the darkness and his missing King; for that one moment it was just him and her, alive and together once more.

But of course it all came back to him. Valeria was sagging against him, clearly exhausted from her journey. And he was painfully aware that he couldn’t tell whether she was smiling or perhaps simply looking sad and worn-out, as his mind desperately tried to conjure up memories of her face from their last meeting half a year ago.

They had kept their appropriate distance, not like now, her long office desk sitting like a gulf between them. And she had looked at him like she always did, playful then forlorn, a small smirk giving way to a flat-lipped expression of resolve, and beneath it all, always the air of resignation. That they were able to hold each other so close now, unabashedly and in public, was a sign of just how drastically their world had changed.

“Are you real?” she murmured into his chest, voice full of weariness and wonder.

“I’m real. I promise,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. He would hope that her dream version of him wasn't blind. “When was the last time you slept?” He reluctantly broke the embrace to feel around for whatever she’d dropped at his feet. When he found it - a rucksack - he slung it over his shoulder, amazed at how light it was for a woman who once couldn’t even take a day trip without bringing a change of clothes.

“Um...” she paused, one hand still clutching his jacket. “I think I caught a couple hours on the back of a truck yesterday.”

Ignis clicked his tongue. “That hardly counts. Come.” He took up his cane in one hand, and held out the other toward her. “It’s not much, but I do have a bed back at my flat. And running water. It’s not hot, mind you, but it does, in fact, run. We can get you something to eat as well.”

“Thank you, Iggy.” The sound of genuine gratitude in her voice made him puff out his chest a bit as they turned to head back to his apartment, but he quickly deflated when he realized just how long it was going to take them to get back, and all because of his damned eyes.

“I’m afraid I have to take things a bit slower these days,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. Of course, she knew what had happened to him in Altissia, but hearing it over the phone was a lot different than watching him stumble around. _So much for showing her you’re not useless_.

“It’s alright, Ignis,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Take your time.”

“Right.”

 

* * *

 

Ignis was right; he did move a lot slower than he used to. Valeria recalled the brisk, purposeful way he used to walk around the Citadel and the Academy - confident and self-assured. Now his steps were shuffling, halted and cautious; he frequently paused to ask her to confirm landmarks for him.

Her poor Ignis. Every time they'd spoken since the attack on Altissia, he’d brusquely assured her in that very _Ignis_ way that he was bearing up just fine. She knew him better than that.

After all, she was the same. She had assured him that she was also fine, when she didn’t know where her next meal was coming from and memories of her mother’s final moments appeared every time she closed her eyes.

Valeria had tried to mentally prepare herself for this, for the fact that he was blind - that he had been irreparably changed, but was still the same where it mattered. She had tried, and yet in those rare moments when she felt safe enough to let her mind wander, she just ended up fantasizing about how wonderful it would be to finally be back at his side. Ignis was still Ignis; the rest might be difficult or sad or awkward, but they would get through it.

As they made their ponderous way, she caught herself constantly looking over her shoulder, scanning the endless crowd for threats. “Is this city truly safe from daemons?” she asked.

“Hm?” Ignis paused. “Oh, yes. The lights keep them away.” Valeria decided not to pester him with any more questions when it was so obviously taking all of his concentration to navigate the throng.

Instead, she tried to allow that information to sink in. _No daemons_. Could that really be possible? The lights of Lestallum were indeed ubiquitous and bright; after living so long (had it really been _that_  long? It felt that long) by lantern and flashlight, to be surrounded by so much brightness was disorienting. She clung to Ignis’s gloved hand like an anchor in a torrential neon sea.

Overhead, myriad signs blinked and pulsed, and like so many voices shouting all at once, the effect was chaotic and cacaphonous. It contrasted sharply with the formless crowd below, their clothing patched and faded, faces drawn and resigned. Its mass made even Insomnia’s busiest streets look orderly and spacious, but there was no energy, no zeal - just people existing, surviving another day.

After a long while, Ignis stopped, adjusting her bag on his shoulder. “Ah. Here we are. Would you like something to eat before we go upstairs?” He gestured toward a row of greasy-looking food stalls with his cane.

Valeria looked around, trying to blink away the afterimages of the lights surrounding them. Above the busy street, buildings loomed, clearly extended beyond their original capacity. Laundry fluttered listlessly on crisscrossing lines, while hollow-eyed children darted in and out of the crowd on the street. The strong smell of the food stalls could not drown out the stench of human odor, filth and sewage and rot. Valeria never would have imagined Ignis Scientia residing in a slum, but then she supposed that _all_ of Lestallum was a slum now.

Not that she was judging him. Anything was better than hovering in an abandoned shed with a dozen strangers, crowded around a single light, praying that tonight, at least, the daemons wouldn’t come, that she wouldn’t wake to find empty clothes and pools of blood in place of her companions.

Now that the smell of cooking food filled her nose, Valeria remembered that she was starving. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten a proper meal.

“I...I don’t really have any money.” Words no one had ever expected to come from Valeria Soleil’s lips.

Ignis’s mouth quirked upwards. “My treat.” He let go of her hand for a moment to fish his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Whatever you’d like.” He grabbed her elbow and allowed her to lead him to the nearest stall boasting some kind of kebab, the origin of which she decided it was perhaps better not to know.

Noting the careful way his bills were folded inside his wallet, Valeria ordered two and handed one to Ignis. Whatever the meat was, it was absolutely delicious, she thought, practically inhaling it as they moved aside to loiter in a narrow crevice between market tents. Ignis wasn’t even halfway through his first when she ordered herself a second helping. She caught him smiling as she licked the salty, savory juice from her fingers.

“Good?” he asked.

“Amazing,” Valeria said, taking his empty stick and chucking their trash into an overflowing bin. A pair of rats skittered underfoot, but she was too exhausted - and too sated with her recent meal - to be bothered.

“Thank you, Iggy.” Valeria had a feeling she was going to be saying that a lot in the coming days. “I mean it.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” His grin widened, showing his slightly-too-large, white teeth, and, had she not been so damn tired, she thought she might have burst into tears. _That smile_.

For one terrible moment after the attack on Altissia, when everyone was reporting that the city was underwater, when she couldn't get a hold of him on the phone, she thought she would never see that smile again. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see, that his scars were far worse than he’d lead her to believe - he was alive, and here, and - in spite of it all - still able to smile.

“Come,” Ignis said, taking her hand once more. He slowly led them to one of a dozen near-identical dilapidated, tall buildings, and up a dingy, narrow stairwell. More than once they had to step around a huddled figure taking refuge on the stairs, one of whom Valeria seriously questioned whether he (she?) was alive or dead.

Ignis merely sighed. “As I said, it’s not much.”

“It’s fine,” she asserted. _If only you knew how I’ve been living, you’d understand just how fine it is_. But she didn’t want to burden him with that, and frankly she was too tired to relive it at the moment anyway.

On the third floor, he held the door open for her, ushering her into an equally dingy, narrow hallway, the fingers of his left hand trailing the wall until he stopped in front of a door labeled 313.

“Here we are,” Ignis said as he unlocked the door, motioning for her to go inside as he followed behind her. He locked the door behind them and flicked on a single, bright overhead light.

His entire apartment (if one could really call it that) was smaller than her bedroom back in Insomnia, a squarish studio with a narrow stove and tiny refrigerator tucked in one corner, the other side partitioned off with folding screens into some semblance of a bedroom.

“The washroom’s here,” Ignis said, pointing to the only other door in the place, as he set her bag down on the worn leather sofa that broke up the two halves of the room. Despite its general sense of disrepair - faded blue paint peeling from the walls, uneven floorboards underfoot - the place was impeccably tidy and organized.

“There are fresh towels in there if you’d like a shower,” he continued, removing his jacket and hanging it on a small rack next to the door. Valeria followed suit and hung up her own coat, suddenly painfully aware of just how filthy she must be.

“I definitely would,” she said, her embarrassment giving way to anticipation. She could barely turn around in the bathroom without bumping into the sink or the toilet, but she didn’t care. She was too busy marveling at amenities she had once taken for granted: toilet paper and a commode that actually flushed, the heavenly softness and fresh scent of a clean towel; and she nearly squealed with delight when the shower turned on. It didn’t matter that the water was lukewarm at best - it felt wonderful cascading down her back and settling in her hair, soap stripping away the layers and layers of dirt and misery from the road.

Being clean felt so novel, so amazing, that she was hardly bothered by just how exhausted and _worn_ she looked when she caught her reflection in the mirror, eyes bloodshot and ringed by circles dark as bruises, skin pallid and drawn. She almost considered not putting her dirty old clothes back on - Ignis couldn’t see her, after all, but it still felt wrong, somehow.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “I trust it wasn’t too cold?” Ignis said from the other side.

The door was so thin she didn’t have to raise her voice to reply. “It was incredible.”

“Good. I...” she heard him clear his throat. “I have some clean clothes, if you’d prefer.”

“Oh, yes.” Again, Valeria could have opened the door and just taken the clothes from him face to face, completely naked, but her sense of propriety was too strong (and she knew his was too). She opened the door a crack and took the t-shirt and boxer shorts that were thrust through; both hung large on her, but were soft and amazingly, blessedly clean.

“The bed,” Ignis gestured toward the folding screens when she emerged from the bathroom. “Please, rest as long as you like. I have to step out later, but I’ll be back.”

Valeria nodded, then caught herself. “Okay,” she said aloud. “I expect I’ll probably sleep through it anyway.” She was eyeing the bed almost hungrily - it was only twin size, but a _real_ bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets, not a cot or a dirty sleeping bag huddled in a dark corner.

“Like I said,” Ignis gave her another one of his lovely smiles. “Rest as long as you like.”

Valeria laid down with a wondrous sigh. _This is real_ , she told herself. A real bed in a real apartment, with a real friend close by. Instead of drifting off immediately, she caught her ears marking every small sound around her - Ignis shifting his weight on the sofa, a child crying somewhere beneath her, a couple arguing down the hall. It wasn’t that she was curious, but force of habit had trained her ears to catalog and note every sound, even as she was trying to sleep, to gauge the threat level of daemons or Niffs nearby. It was the reason she had survived - and, even now knowing intellectually that she was safe, it was going to be a hard habit to break.

“Iggy?” she said.

“What is it?” he called from beyond the partition.

“When you go, could you...could you leave the lights on?”

She felt infantile even asking, but there was no mocking in his voice when he replied. “Of course.”

Valeria tried to concentrate on the softness of the mattress, the warmth of the blankets, the heavenly scent of soap and detergent, willing herself to relax until sleep finally came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you read _The Road_ by Cormac McCarthy? I can't necessarily say I'd _recommend_ it - it's wonderfully written, but horribly dark and depressing - but it is a really good (ie realistic), if grim, take on life after an apocalyptic event. While I definitely do not plan on going _that_ dark in this story, it is nonetheless an inspiration for portraying the World of Ruin. For now, though, I hope you enjoyed the long-awaited reunion of the two main characters! (◠‿◠)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looong chapter today. Hope you enjoy it!

When the citywide chimes struck seven in the evening, Ignis reluctantly rose from the couch to gather his things. Valeria was still sound asleep, as far as he could tell, but he nonetheless felt badly for leaving her, if even for just a few hours.

And he couldn’t entirely suppress the wholly irrational fear that she would disappear in the interim. That she would slip through his fingers once again, or her comforting presence would prove to be nothing but a wonderful, cruel dream.

Nonetheless, he had an appointment to keep. The Marshal had sidelined him from daemon hunting for the time-being, and though Ignis knew it was for his well-being, the demotion still stung. The only recourse he had was to dedicate himself to his training until the Marshal deemed him worthy to rejoin the fray.

When Ignis reached for his jacket, his fingers struck upon an unfamiliar garment - a coat, shapeless, grimy, nearly large enough to fit him. He knew it had to belong to Valeria, even though it was nothing like the expensive, well-tailored clothing he’d always known her to wear. This apparel, combined with the way she’d practically inhaled the food at the market and her genuine, profuse gratitude for a cold shower, left him feeling uneasy, vaguely guilty. _My dear, just what happened to you out there?_

Various scenarios, each more miserable than the last, played out in Ignis’s mind as he sparred with the Marshal in the gymnasium of Lestallum’s former high school. Rather than channeling the negative energy into his strikes, he allowed it to overwhelm him, drawing his attention from the sounds, the shifting air and vibrating ground that he now relied upon to give him a sense of his opponent on the battlefield.

“You’re distracted,” the Marshal chided after knocking Ignis on his backside for the third time.

Ignis merely picked himself up and said, “Yes. I apologize.” He knew the Marshal didn’t want to hear excuses, least of all those related to his personal life.

“ _You_ can’t afford to be distracted.” Even if his words hurt at times, Ignis appreciated that Cor spoke plainly, that he didn’t handle him like some kind of breakable invalid.

“Yes, sir.” Ignis suppressed a sigh. _Distractions_. He had pushed his feelings to the side, buried them deep for so long, all to avoid that one, shameful word. That was going to prove much more difficult now that Valeria was staying with him, and yet the thought of her boarding somewhere else left him feeling quite sad and lonely. He didn’t want her to go, and yet he wasn’t sure he possessed the willpower to repress his heart if she stayed. The events of the last six months had laid him bare and left him longing for the sort of comfort that he’d once convinced himself was unimportant, unnecessary, to his existence.

“Let’s take a break,” the Marshal said.

Ignis’s shoulders sagged. “I apologize,” he said once more.

“Enough of that.” Ignis felt the Marshal’s hand on his back, guiding him toward the bleachers. “Sit down.”

Ignis did as he was told, setting his jaw. He didn’t particularly want a lecture, but supposed he deserved one. The Marshal sat down beside him, pausing a few moments before he spoke.

“I’m not doing this to punish you,” Cor said. “But the truth is, I have more wannabe Hunters than I know what to do with. What I don’t have is a head for politics. Gods,” he muttered, “I never could stand it. And now I find myself right in the middle of it.”

“With EXINERIS?” Ignis ventured.

“They seem to think the Hunters are their own personal military,” the Marshal replied. “Meanwhile, half my guys refuse to work until their families get let in the city. I know you’d probably rather be out there in the thick of things, but right now I need your mind a lot more than I need your daggers.”

Ignis straightened his back. “I want to help, Marshal. However I can.”

“Good,” the Marshal said. “Because negotiations are not really my skillset, especially with the power company.”

“I... I actually know of someone who may be able to assist with that, specifically.” Ignis briefly told the Marshal about Valeria and her former position at Royal Energy, taking care to make their relationship sound strictly professional, and definitely not mentioning that she was back in his apartment, literally sleeping in his bed.

“A woman?” Cor asked.

Ignis cleared his throat. “As I said, she’s an acquaintance from the Academy.” _Not a distraction_.

“That’s good,” the Marshal replied, and Ignis nearly fell over.

“I’m sorry?”

“EXINERIS has a thing about men.” Cor let out a wear sigh, probably shaking his head. “They think we should all just shut up and follow their orders. I guess that’s how it’s always been around here.”

“Ah, yes.” Ignis felt strangely relieved, like a child nearly caught sneaking out of the house. “They don’t allow men to work at the power plant.”

“They don’t allow them to do a lot of things, apparently. Anyway, If you could bring her in, that’d be a big help,” the Marshal replied. “Also, anything she can tell us about the occupation of Insomnia would be good to know. As far as the reports go, the Niffs are still there - along with all our people.”

Ignis nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

She was on the run again. The lights of Lestallum, the safety within the walls, _Ignis_ \- it was all a beautiful dream. Now there was the only the cloying darkness, the sulphurous stink, screeching, teeth, and claws...

Valeria’s eyes snapped open. Light. There was so much light. A soft pillow and clean blankets. It was all real. The daemons were the dream. That hardly seemed possible, but no matter how many times she blinked, the lights weren’t going away.

She got out of bed, marveling at just how _rested_ she felt, and found Ignis sitting on the couch, listening to the radio with a pair of headphones.

“I trust you slept well?” He asked, switching off the device.

“I did,” she replied. “How long was I out?” Ignis was fully dressed, shoes and sunglasses on, but he wasn’t wearing the same clothing when he met her at the gate (and she noted that, despite his newfound blindness, he was as well-dressed as ever in a starched button-up and suspenders, hair expertly styled).

“Well, the clock struck two in the afternoon not long ago.” A small smile played on his lips.

“Two...” Once upon a time that would have seemed horribly, selfishly late, but she didn’t even know what late or early meant anymore.

“I told you to rest as long as you needed.”

Valeria noticed a folded blanket and pillow stacked at the other corner of the couch. “Did you sleep out here? I don’t want to put you out of your own bed.”

Ignis shrugged. “It’s no trouble. And what sort gentleman makes a lady sleep on his couch?”

Valeria laughed. _Oh, Iggy_. “Good to know that even at the end of the world, chivalry’s not dead.”

She went into the bathroom, once again marveling at just how _clean_ everything was, how clean she felt. When she came back out, Ignis had a cup of coffee waiting for her at the tiny kitchen table.

It smelled heavenly, but something else caught her eye. “Is this real?” She asked, eyes wide with wonder, picking up a half-filled glass bottle. “ _Real_ milk?”

“Indeed,” he replied, chuckling at her bewilderment. “It’s certainly not cheap these days, but I know how you like your coffee.” When she hesitated, he motioned for her to help herself. She used less of it than she regularly would, back when both milk and good coffee weren’t a precious commodity.

“Ebony?” she marveled again when the mellow, smoky brew hit her tongue. “How in the world did you get your hands on Ebony?”

“I have a deal with most of the Hunters.” Ignis crossed his arms over his chest. “They bring me any Ebony they find while out on the road, and they get paid.”

Valeria didn’t bother to ask where he got the money. He still served the Prince - no, the King. “I’m surprised you don’t live with Noctis.” The way the color drained from Ignis’s face made her instantly realize she’d said something wrong. “Is he-?”

“He’s not dead,” Ignis asserted.

Valeria then felt her temper flare. “Did he... _dismiss_ you? After all you’ve done for him?” _After what you gave up for him?_

“No.” Ignis shook his head emphatically. “It’s nothing like that. It’s...rather difficult to explain. Noct is... _gone_.”

“Where?”

Ignis sighed, then launched into an explanation about Noctis and the Crystal, the Imperial Chancellor, and the Glacian’s cryptic message. “You probably think I’ve lost my wits along with my sight,” he concluded. “But Gladio and Prompto will tell you the same.”

“Six months ago, I would've told you a world where the sun never rises was absurd. Nothing really seems that crazy anymore.”

“I suppose not.” Ignis sipped his coffee.

“I’m sorry about the Prince. Even if he’s safe, I... I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“No,” Ignis admitted. “It hasn’t been. But keeping Lestallum from descending into anarchy certainly keeps us all busy. And when Noct does return, I’d like to be able to present him with at least a semblance of order somewhere in his kingdom.”

Even now, with all that had happened, and all that had happened _to_ him, Ignis’s devotion to his duty, to his king and country, remained unflappable. She both admired and envied him for that. She had no kingdom, no legacy left to preserve, and no hope that some day all the things she’d worked so hard for and lost would suddenly come back to her.

Their conversation lapsed into contemplative silence then, and Valeria tried to savor her coffee, tried to savor how it felt to be washed and rested, but her eyes kept darting to the windows and the door, to the corners of the room where something might lurk in the darkness...

“Damn,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“What is it?”

“I just...” Valeria shook her head again, as if she could knock the paranoid thoughts free. “You’re _sure_ there are no daemons within the city?”

Ignis’s expression softened. “It was very bad for you out there, wasn’t it?”

Valeria looked away, down at her coffee, choking down a dozen awful memories that floated to the surface at once. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Val.” His hand slid across the table and felt around for hers, squeezing her fingers tight when he found it. “Forgive me. I should have found you sooner.”

They both knew there was nothing more that he could have done. Aloud, she said, “I think you had enough on your plate.”

“Still, I am sorry.” He squeezed her hand again. “But you’re safe here. Well, maybe not from pickpockets, but I assure you, there are no daemons.”

“I’m afraid it may take a while to convince my subconscious of that.”

Ignis nodded, a small, understanding smile on his face. “I’m happy to remind you whenever you need.”

As he moved his head, a silvery glint around his neck caught her eye. “You still have that necklace.” She couldn’t decide if she was amused or surprised that he was still wearing it after all this time, so it came out as a bit of both.

“Of course I do,” Ignis replied. “Do you finally want it back?”

Valeria chuckled. She’d lost it to him in a bet over their final exam scores one semester (a bet he had won by a single percentage point), and after the month they had agreed upon was over, she'd decided to let him keep it. The little Lucian-style skull peeking through his unbuttoned collar had suited him so well she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

“No. I told you, it’s too much with the earrings.” Valeria took his hand and placed his fingers on her earlobe to feel the matching skull studs that she too had continued to wear all these years.

“If you say so.” Ignis’s hand lingered there for a moment, running along her neck and the side of her jaw before pulling away, a blush creeping up his neck. Valeria let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

There was no good reason he didn’t kiss her right there, across his kitchen table. The things that kept them apart had vanished with Insomnia’s fall. But like her fear of the darkness, their strangely detached intimacy and the idea that her feelings for him were _wrong_ , as wrong as theft or cruelty, were ingrained deeply upon her heart.

“Best not to let this spoil,” Ignis said, his stiff tone echoing her own thoughts. He put the milk back in the narrow refrigerator and rinsed their mugs in the sink.

“We could go shopping today, if you’d like,” he said.

 _Shopping?_ Valeria almost laughed. After a month of scrounging for scraps to eat in between hiding from daemons and dodging MTs, the idea of strolling through the market seemed ridiculous. But it wasn’t. It might be more shoving than strolling, but the market was there.

“Sure,” she said. “What do you need to get?”

Ignis shook his head. “Shopping for you. I noticed your bag was rather light.”

Valeria stared down at her lap, at her knobby, bruised knees poking out of Ignis’s boxer shorts, and tried to choke down the shame that had suddenly welled within her. Valeria Soleil, one of Insomnia’s wealthiest and most successful heiresses, now without a single gil to her name. That it wasn’t her fault didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

“I told you. I don’t have any money,” she said quietly.

“And I told you it was my treat,” Ignis replied. “If you truly feel beholden, then consider your company adequate compensation.”

 _Company?_  Valeria looked up. Was Ignis really so lonely, or was he just trying to assuage her?

“What about Gladiolus and what’s-his-name? The one who can’t spell. Aren’t they here?”

“Prompto. And they are,” Ignis conceded. “We see each other several times a week. But,” his expression turned solemn, “to sit here with them, like this...it only reminds us that Noct is gone.”

“Oh.” Valeria reminded herself that Noctis was not merely Ignis’s liege; more than that, he was his friend. “I just... I don’t want to obtrude upon your hospitality.”

“‘Obtrude?’” Ignis laughed, breaking the tension. “Do you have any idea how delightful it is to converse with someone who knows the meaning of the word ‘obtrude?’ That in and of itself is enough to repay me.”

 

* * *

 

Loath as he was to admit it, Ignis had to concede that shopping with the help of another person was infinitely easier than trying to do it on his own. Prompto and Gladiolus had helped him at first, of course, but then Ignis had stubbornly insisted he could manage by himself; he _had_ to learn, lest he need to wait on someone every time he needed to run a bloody errand. His solo trips had ended half-successful at best. It certainly didn’t help matters that the market was overflowing with people and the stalls were constantly in flux; EXINERIS had yet to draw up any sort of regulations about who could set up shop and where, let alone make any determinations about how they would enforce it.

So, while the shopping trip was primarily so Valeria could get what she needed, Ignis decided he might as well pick up a few things while he had her aid. She seemed too overwhelmed to mind.

“You’re just going to have to push through,” Ignis advised her, after her polite attempts to ask people to move aside failed. He had to keep a firm grip on her arm - tighter than he would have liked - to ensure they didn’t get separated by the pressing throng.

“This is crazy,” Valeria admitted after purchasing some new clothes. He hoped she had managed to find something at least somewhat convivial to her refined tastes. “Where does all this stuff come from?” she asked. “Surely factories aren’t still running...?”

“The last shipments before the Darkness fell.” The market - and therefore all of Lestallum - was operating on borrowed time. Yet another thing EXINERIS needed to plan for, and fast. With that in mind, Ignis decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pick up some canned goods in addition to his regular groceries, to add to the pantry of non-perishables he’d been stockpiling since moving into his apartment.

They stopped in front of a stall and Ignis began telling Val what he was looking for when they were suddenly interrupted by a man whom he assumed was the shop owner.

“Hey, Tenebrae. Can’t you read the sign?” The man’s voice was laced with disdain, just this side of open hostility.

Ignis scowled, the man’s tone immediately putting him on the defensive. “Ah, no. I cannot, in fact.” That elicited neither embarrassment nor an apology.

“‘Lucians Only.’” Valeria said, sounding a little baffled. Ignis assumed that was what was written on the sign he couldn’t see. “Why does that matter? A gil is a gil.”

 _I am a Crown citizen_ , Ignis opened his mouth to say, but the man fired off a response before he could speak.

“This ain’t about money, missy. I’m a _patriot_. Lucian goods for Lucian citizens, I say. In case you hadn’t noticed, foreigners have turned this place into a real shithole.”

“Well, you’re insulting a member of the _Lucian_ Crownsguard,” Valeria snapped back. Ignis could feel her stiffening beside him.

Again, rather than show some sort of chagrin, the shop owner only became more defiant. “‘Crownsguard.’” There was a sneer around the word. “Now, there’s an oxymoron for ya. Losing two kings in six months has gotta be some kind of record for incompetence. Guess ol’ Cor ‘the Immortal’ was more concerned with upholding his reputation than doing his duty.”

There were half a dozen retorts on the tip of Ignis’s tongue, but he remained silent. Why waste his breath? People like this man only heard what they wanted to. Valeria took a deep breath, like she was about to launch into a tirade, when Ignis tugged on her arm.

“Let’s go, Val.”

When she balked, he forcibly turned them around, felt her dragging her feet as they walked away.

“Iggy, that man...”

Ignis shook his head. “People like him are beneath your notice.”

“Is that _normal?_ ” She sounded appalled.

It was the first time he’d actually been turned away based on the way he spoke, but the prejudice behind it had been mounting ever since refugees from Niflheim began pouring into Lestallum. Imperials had it the worst, but people from Accordo and Tenebrae were beginning to get lumped in with them as well.

“Let us hope not,” Ignis replied. Rather than stew on it, he instead thought about how flattering it was for her to come to his rescue.

It wasn’t the first time. His position working for the Crown had deterred most bullying back at the Academy, but sometimes, being the foreign-born, bespectacled kid who skewed the grading curve was just too much for his classmates to bear. He recalled those incidences bothering Valeria far more than him. And every time she had dressed down his tormentors with an alarming ferocity, knowing exactly where their petty teenage insecurities laid and brutally ripping them clean. It certainly hadn’t won her many friends, but it had earned her his undying affection.

“Don’t let it trouble you.” He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Hmph.” Ignis could just picture her now, long nose in the air, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in silent irritation, long brown hair streaming behind her. He was grateful for that image, as clear as a photograph in his mind. He could live with this darkness, he thought, as long as he could remember the faces of those he loved.

“Let’s go back,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll make us dinner.” Hopefully she wasn’t expecting something hot.

 

* * *

 

Valeria sat at Ignis’s kitchen table, their encounter in the market playing over and over in her head. _That asshole_. She wanted to go back and give him a piece of her mind, but what could she really do? She had no money, no name, no hired muscle to intimidate him. She was just another penniless refugee.

“I hope you don’t mind cold sandwiches?” Ignis asked hesitantly. She looked up and saw him standing with his hands full in the tiny kitchen. “I’m still a bit, uh, _wary_ of operating the stove.”

“It’s fine, Iggy. Really, I’ll eat whatever.”

He may have had his reservations about cooking with heat, but he moved quite confidently about the kitchen as he prepared their meal. He must have memorized where everything was, she thought, resolving to make sure to put everything away exactly where she found it in the future.

“Would you like mayonnaise?” he asked.

Valeria felt her mouth watering at the word. “Would I?” She didn’t even particularly _like_ mayonnaise, but condiments were a luxury she had thought all but lost.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” A small, satisfied smile played on his lips.

When the food was ready, Ignis carried both plates toward her, feeling around with his leg for the table’s edge. She nearly got up to help him, but then he connected and set their plates down. Should she have carried the plates in? Or had he known what he was doing all along? It was so hard to know when to step in.

“No tomato, I’m afraid,” Ignis said, sliding a plate toward her. “Plenty of turkey, though.”

Valeria took the plate, examining the generous slab of white meat, cheese, and a bit of wilted lettuce. _Real_ food. A finer meal than she’d had in a long, long time.

“This looks amazing. Thank you, Iggy.” As he went to take a bite from his own sandwich, a small, grey-green splotch on the crust caught her eye. “Ah! Wait a minute.” She grabbed his arm, lowering the sandwich back to the plate, which she then spun around, cutting bits of mold from several places on the bread. “Alright. There you go.”

Valeria began to cut mold from a few places on her own sandwich, then looked up to see the slightly smug look on Ignis’s face had vanished, replaced by one of abject horror.

“What...?” He was fingering the top of his sandwich, the little nooks left in the crust where she’d cut the mold away. “Was that... _mold?_ ”

“Just a little.” Valeria pushed the bits she’d removed to the side of her plate and prepared to dig in when Ignis abruptly rose.

“My apologies,” he said, looking as if he’d just accidentally served her arsenic. “I’ll make you something else.”

Valeria frowned, then leaned across the table to tug on his arm and get him to sit back down. “It’s just a little mold, Iggy. Cut it off and the rest of the food is still fine.”

As if to demonstrate, she took a big bite of her sandwich. The bread was, predictably, dry and stale, but that hardly mattered. The light flavor of the meat, the tang of the cheese and mayonnaise, the crunch of the lettuce...could a sandwich really be heavenly? Maybe so.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Valeria hummed as she took another bite. Ignis had sat back down, but he still looked appalled. “Are you really that bothered by a little bit of mold?”

“I...” His shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to make something nice for you.”

“And you did. Seriously, Iggy, this is _really_ good.”

Ignis sighed and ate, all the while continuing to look dejected about it.

“You’re so funny,” Valeria said, finishing her last bite.

“Am I?”

“You keep apologizing, like I haven’t been sleeping on the floor and eating out of a can for the past month.”

Rather than laugh, Ignis frowned. “This entire time?”

“Before that, it was an uncomfortable cot and disgusting rations.” But Valeria didn’t want to dwell on that. She picked up the last crumbs of her sandwich and licked them from her fingers. “Things changed...well, I suppose things have changed for everyone.” 

After a long moment spent in silence, she turned to Ignis. “How are _you_ , Iggy? With everything?” she asked. “I mean, honestly.”

Ignis immediately opened his mouth, then shut it, seeming to consider his words. “Not without my fair share of frustrations,” he admitted. She didn’t think there was anything ‘fair’ about it. “But I’ve been making do. Better, now that you’re here.”

Valeria felt strangely embarrassed at that. “You’re always worrying about others,” she said, looking down at her plate.

Ignis grunted. “Gladio says I’m in denial.”

She looked up. “Are you?”

“I... I don’t know,” he said. “To put it bluntly, I don’t know how else to live my life.”

Valeria studied his face. The large, angry red scar only partially concealed behind dark glasses, earned protecting others. His sight lost in service to the crown. That should have been more than enough to earn him a long respite to finally put himself first.

“Sometimes I feel so lost,” she whispered. “I spent my entire life preparing for something that no longer exists. Something that was destroyed overnight. All those things I gave up or pushed to the side...” _You_. “Just what was the point in any of it?”

Ignis’s expression softened. “We never could have predicted this.”

“I know. I just...” She pushed away a sudden wave of grief. “I keep thinking about my mother and all the sacrifices she made for the company. Now, it’s gone, and she’s gone. In the end... I don’t know. It feels like there has to be something more.”

Ignis was looking toward her with a tender expression on his face, the kind he used to give her sometimes that always made her so sad, like they were mourning a life that had never been.

“Valeria. You’re free to choose to be whomever you want. Whatever you want.”

She wished Ignis could look her in the eye. “So are you.”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then bowed his head.

“Even after the King comes back,” she said gently. Valeria didn’t want to push him; she merely wanted to give him a nudge. “Just think on it.”

Ignis, head still inclined, nodded. “...I will try.”

Valeria smiled. _Good_. Trying was all she asked of him. She rose and collected both of their plates, discarding the bits of mold into the trash.

Ignis got to his feet and turned toward the kitchen, looking concerned. “I can-”

“I know,” Valeria cut him off as she turned on the sink. There was no dishwasher, so she scrubbed the plates by hand. “But you made dinner. It’s only fair that I clean up.”

Ignis managed somewhat of a compromise by standing next to her with a towel, drying and putting away the plates when she was done washing them. _He’s trying_ , she reminded herself. No one changed all at once.

“I’m not _him_ , Iggy,” Valeria said when she was finished. The kitchen was so small their bodies were practically touching, and she had to take him by the waist to move around him. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I know that,” Ignis replied, looking a little offended.

“I have something for you.” Talking about her mother had made Valeria remember, and she didn’t want to linger on the subject of Noctis. She went through her backpack, producing a small plastic baggie that held a wallet, pocket watch, and a pair of silver cufflinks. She grabbed Ignis’s hand and pressed it into his palm. “Your uncle’s things. At least, it’s what the Niffs gave me when I identified his body.”

Ignis paused halfway through unsealing the bag. “You _identified_ him?”

Valeria realized that she had merely told Ignis his uncle was dead during one of their calls after Insomnia fell, not how she knew. “I didn’t... The Niffs had photographs of all the bodies they pulled from the rubble. I... I think it was quick.” _Like my mother_.

Ignis’s jaw tensed as he held the half-opened bag. “Val, you didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” she said. “I wanted you to have some closure.” He never needed to know how she had paid for that later on.

Valeria felt Ignis’s free hand on her arm, move up her shoulder, then pull her into his chest, the plastic bag thumping against her back as he enveloped her in an embrace.

“Thank you.” His voice was thick with emotion, both soft and heavy in her ear. “Thank you.”

Valeria closed her eyes and held onto him tightly, reveling in how warm he felt, how stalwart and strong. They had always been so reserved, so _scared_ to touch one another before, but, she noted, the world had ended anyway, regardless of their best behavior. And now that they were here so close together, no bolt of lightning burst through the ceiling to strike them down, no earthquake split the ground beneath their feet.

It didn’t matter anymore. The things that had kept them apart before only existed in ruins now, in photographs of the dead, in little plastic bags of memories. They were free now, together at long last.

Without warning, Valeria began to cry.

“Oh, I...what’s wrong?” Ignis asked when he realized what was going on.

Valeria shook her head, burying her face into his lapel. “It’s not bad. It’s just...today was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

“Are you certain? I believe I just tried to feed you mold.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Valeria sniffled, still clinging to Ignis’s chest. “Drinking coffee, shopping, having dinner with you - it was all so _normal_. I...” Even she couldn’t quite explain the sudden onset of tears, only that she was overwhelmed with relief, with the simple comfort of it all.

Ignis squeezed her tight, seemingly unperturbed at the soaking of his nice shirt. “Oh, Val,” he said, his voice softly rumbling in his chest. “I don’t know about ‘normal,’ but things are going to get better for you here. I promise.”

Valeria turned her head to look up at his face. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure, like, every fic author out there has come up with a cute explanation for Ignis's mysterious necklace, so I'll just humbly throw mine into the ring as well. I love the idea of him wearing it after all this time, and carrying a little piece of her with him wherever he goes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning on this chapter for a very brief mention of suicide.

Ignis had once again slept on the couch (and would be for the foreseeable future, as there was no space in his tiny apartment for an extra bed), but it wasn’t the fact that his legs were slightly too long to comfortably fit that had kept him awake half the night. He’d been stuck with thoughts of his uncle, and, more broadly, overcome with a melancholy nostalgia for _home_.

In his case, home was not so much another place as it was another time, a time when everything was lined up as it should be, when his Prince called on him for odd errands at all hours, when the sun still rose every morning and set every evening, when Ignis could still _see_ his friends, and the flowers blooming in the park down the street from his apartment, and Valeria’s sly grin when she opened her office door to greet him.

Being unable to see her face now bothered him far more than he anticipated. He knew her well enough to _hear_ a smile or a frown, though that was hardly the same. But dwelling on that which he could not fix was a pointless endeavor.

What he could fix - or at least, hope to - was what was troubling Valeria. The first night (and part of the subsequent day) she had slept like a stone, but this past evening she had tossed and turned for the duration of the night, rising to go to the bathroom at least half a dozen times. And, because the walls were paper thin (much to Ignis’s sudden dismay), he could hear that she wasn’t actually _using_ the bathroom in any capacity, just sitting in there for stretches at a time.

 _The light_ , he realized. Out of habit, he’d switched it off before turning in, carelessly not thinking what sort of awful memories a darkened room might trigger for her. It was especially careless since the presence of an overhead light made very little difference to him; somewhere, in the deep recesses of his right eye, some cell that was still functioning registered that the blackness that surrounded him was not quite as dark as before, but that was all it was really - a sensation, a vague impression of light, not something visibly perceived.

Valeria rose not long after Ignis did, dragging her feet and yawning as she plopped down at the kitchen table. He was of half a mind to tell her to go back to bed as he turned on the coffee maker, but didn’t want to embarrass her. Although he didn’t quite understand it, he could tell she was terribly embarrassed by all the awful things that had happened to her - having no money, no clothes, nowhere to stay. It wasn’t as if she’d gambled all her possessions away - everything had been _taken_ from her and, in spite of that, she’d endured. Ignis thought that, if anything, she ought to be proud.

“Coffee?” he asked, turning toward where Valeria sat. He fiddled with his sunglasses, taking care to ensure they were flush with his face. Ignis felt no embarrassment walking around her in his nightclothes, but his scars were another matter entirely. ‘ _Chicks dig scars, Iggy. Trust me_ ,’ Gladio had said, as if their respective facial flaws were remotely comparable.

“Coffee,” Valeria repeated with a yawn. “Yes, please. I still can’t believe you have Ebony.”

“When I have to resort to something else, we’ll know we’re in trouble.”

“There was this guy,” Valeria said as the wonderful scent of fresh-brewed Ebony began to fill the room. “He tried to make coffee over a campfire. I don’t think he knew what he was doing. Gods.” She made a noise of revulsion. “It was disgusting. I thought I was desperate for coffee, but I wasn’t _that_ desperate.”

Ignis smiled as he slowly poured their coffee, taking care not to burn himself. “Ensuring I could brew a proper cup was my first goal after settling in. I have my priorities, after all.”

Valeria giggled at that, but her mirth was abruptly cut off as Ignis turned around with their drinks.

“Oh my Gods, Iggy,” she exclaimed. “What are all these bruises? Did you fall down the stairs or something?”

In truth, since losing his sight, Ignis had grown so accustomed to bumps and scrapes that he hardly gave it a passing thought anymore.

“Thus far, I’ve managed to avoid falling down the stairs,” he said flatly, placing their coffee on the table and taking the chair opposite her. Falling _up_ the stairs, on the other hand, well...she didn’t have to know about that.

Valeria inhaled sharply, her voice suddenly quiet as she spoke. “I’m sorry, I...I wasn’t trying to make light of it.”

Ignis shook his head. “No need to apologize.” _Please_. “Make light of whatever you wish. You know I’m not easily offended.”

“Only on another’s behalf.” He could hear Valeria’s nails drumming on the side of her cup. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ignis sighed. She was the last person he wanted pitying him. And the truth was, a few bumps and bruises were a small price to pay for his independence.

“I’m fine,” he began. “Don’t-”

“‘-mind me,’” Valeria said over him. “Iggy, that one’s not going to work on me.”

In spite of the weighty topic, Ignis smiled. “You know me so well. But, I really am fine. To be frank, I’d forgotten all about it until you said something.” He fingered a particularly tender spot on his elbow. “I believe I have the Marshal to thank for this one.”

“Wait. ‘The Marshal?’ Do you mean Cor Leonis? Cor Leonis is _here?_ ” There was awe in her voice, awe that made him want to groan. He’d nearly forgotten about her infatuation with Insomnia’s greatest living hero.

“Indeed,” Ignis said dryly, trying not to frown. He wasn’t certain he was succeeding. “In fact, he’d like to speak with you on several matters.”

“Me? Cor the Immortal wants to speak with _me?_ ”

Ignis was definitely frowning now, and not trying to hide it either. “Gird you loins,” he grumbled.

“Gird my...what? What are you talking about?”

He sipped his coffee. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you used to fawn over the topic of the Marshal back at the Academy.” In fact, when Ignis had begun his Crownsguard training, there had been at least a solid month of ceaseless questions about bloody Cor ‘the Immortal’ Leonis.

“The man’s a legend, Iggy. What in the world does he want with _me?_ ”

“Anything you can tell him about the occupation of Insomnia, to start,” Ignis said, still feeling rather sour about the whole thing. “And he needs assistance in working with EXINERIS - a task for which I believe you are uniquely suited.” Although, for his own entirely selfish reasons, Ignis was suddenly regretting having mentioned it.

“Uh...” She trailed off uncertainly.

“What is it?”

“Remember how I was working late?”

“You always worked late,” Ignis replied.

“Well...yes. But this was right before...before _everything_. I was working on a proposal to drive EXINERIS out of Leide. I don’t think they’re going to be too happy to see me here.”

“Given the current state of things, such past rivalries ought to be considered trivial,” he said.

“They should,” Valeria said. “But you know how people are.”

Ignis frowned. “Indeed. Even so, we should go see the Marshal.” _And get this over with_.

 

* * *

 

 

Valeria had little choice but to let Ignis take the lead on their way to meeting with Cor Leonis; she was unfamiliar with Lestallum, and didn’t know where they were going anyway. Ignis seemed to struggle less with this route than he had when returning from the city gates the other day, but she could tell it was still difficult and mentally exhausting for him - a sharp contrast to yesterday at the market when he’d allowed her to guide him.

He’d seemed like his old self then, like when they used to walk around Insomnia together: chatty, responsive and open, unlike now, with his brow furrowed, jaw set in concentration. There wasn’t much she could really do for him, but if she could make living in darkness even the smallest bit easier for him, she wanted to try.

“This is it,” Ignis announced, not sounding altogether confident. Valeria regarded the large building in front of her and a placard that read _Lestallum Junior/Senior High School_.

“Iggy,” she said as gently as she could. “This is a high school.”

“Ah, splendid,” he replied. “Then I haven’t led us astray.”

“They stopped sending kids to school?” Valeria asked, looking around. There were a handful of tough-looking men and women loitering about on the dead grass of the school’s lawn, but no trace of any children.

“The school was moved to a more central location,” Ignis explained as they approached the steps to the front doors. “It was unsafe for children to walk so far every day.”

“Oh,” Valeria said. “You’re probably right.” She’d caught at least two seedy-looking people eyeing the pair of them up as easy pickings on their way here; in response, she’d given them her most frightening sneer, feeling a bit akin to a cat puffing itself up to appear larger and stronger than it really was.

“The Hunters have taken over this building as their headquarters,” Ignis went on, motioning toward a stairwell. “The Marshal’s office is upstairs.”

Valeria followed him, nudging him about half a foot to his right to ensure that he actually made it to the stairs, rather than running right into the railing.

Now that they were here, she couldn’t help the nervous feeling that was mounting in the pit of her stomach. _Cor 'the Immortal' really wants to talk to_ **_me_ **? The reasons Ignis listed made logical sense, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling entirely insignificant and small, meeting with a man whose reputation was larger than life.

There were more people milling about in the upstairs hallway, many of whom greeted Ignis by name. Valeria let out a nervous laugh when they stopped in front of a door and Ignis raised his fist to knock.

“The _vice_ -principal’s office? He didn’t want to be the principal?”

Ignis froze with his hand in mid-air, a grimace marring his face. “The principal’s office is currently uninhabitable.” He dropped his voice so low that only she could hear. “After two weeks without the sun, the man took his own life. It was apparently quite...messy.”

“Oh.” Valeria inhaled sharply, feeling vaguely sick. It was the first she’d actually heard of a suicide, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Without the sun, without hope, people would inevitably surrender to despair.

She pushed that morbid thought away as the office door opened.

“Ignis,” a middle-aged man with close-cropped hair said. “Is this the woman you told me about?”

 _Oh my Gods_. Of course, Valeria recognized him from newspapers and various social functions. Cor ‘the Immortal’ was staring right at her. He was only taller than Ignis by an inch or two, but seemed to tower over her, and it took every ounce of her composure not to run behind Ignis and hide like some shy child.

“Marshal, this is Valeria Soleil.”

“Wow, it’s, um...a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Valeria said awkwardly, as soon as she remembered her manners. Beside her, she could have sworn Ignis groaned.

“Come on in,” Cor replied. He introduced her to a kindly-looking woman named Monica and a few others - senior-level Hunters, apparently - then gestured for her to have a seat. Ignis leaned against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m sure Ignis told you why I wanted to speak with you,” Cor said. Valeria nodded. “I’ll admit that I’m at a loss when it comes to dealing with EXINERIS. We don’t know how long this darkness is going to last, and I think we should prepare for the worst. But so far, they’re not interested in listening to anything I have to say. And as long as they control the power...well, I don’t have a lot of options.”

Now that they were discussing business, Valeria felt a little more confident, a little less like a starstruck school girl. “I’ll be honest, sir - I don’t know the first thing about running any of their reactors. They’ve got all their patents locked up tighter than-” She almost repeated an extremely crass phrase she’d picked up from one of the truckers she’d hitched a ride with to Lestallum, but caught herself just in time. “Uh, the patents are locked up very tight. So, if you’re thinking of taking EXINERIS out, I really wouldn’t know how to keep everything running.”

Cor’s eyebrows shot up, his expression one of surprise and...esteem? That didn’t seem right. “I, uh...I’m not planning a coup. I just want them to _listen_ to me when it comes to keeping the city supplied and safe.”

“Oh.” Valeria shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I’m not sure if I can really help with that. I don’t think EXINERIS likes me very much...and they absolutely detest my mother.”

She briefly detailed the Leide Project the Royal Energy Company had been working on prior to the fall of Insomnia; though it had only been in the proposal stage, EXINERIS had gotten wind of it, and had been scrambling to shore up their interests in the region in response.

Cor put his hand under his chin. “I’m sure you saw the refugee camps when you came into the city.” Valeria nodded. “EXINERIS’s doing. ‘Too many mouths to feed,’ they said. But they aren’t doing anything to bring any more food into the city. I don’t care if they’re all Niffs out there - I can’t just sit back and let people starve.”

“What we need is a liason,” Ignis interjected. “I know you don’t think they’re overly fond of you at the moment, but I believe they will, at the very least, respect your mutual expertise.”

“I’m not a diplomat,” Valeria said.

Cor shrugged. “Neither am I. But here we are.”

“You'e good at talking to people,” Ignis asserted. “Good at getting them to come around to your way of thinking.”

Valeria frowned. _I’m pretty sure that’s just you_. She might have agreed with him once, but her attempts at getting close to the Niffs, at getting any of her fellow Insomnians to care, had backfired so spectacularly that Valeria was no longer so sure of her persuasion abilities. But, with everyone looking at her so expectantly, with Ignis putting his absolute faith and trust in her, what could she say?

“I’ll try my best.”

Their conversation then drifted to Insomnia, and Valeria began to detail the location of the relief camp, the areas where power had been restored and people had returned to their homes. Cor asked her a bunch of questions she couldn’t confidently answer, about Niff troops - their numbers, weapons, supplies.

They were interrupted by a large, dark-haired man popping his head in the door. Gladiolus Amicitia. They weren’t exactly friends, but Valeria had met him enough times to be acquainted.

“Yo,” he said, looking between Cor, Valeria, and Ignis. “Uh, sorry to interrupt. Iggy, you wanna get some training in before I go home?”

Ignis turned his head toward her. “Val?”

“Go ahead,” she said. Her experiences in the last six months had made her wary of strangers, to say the least, but this was Cor Leonis, and others whom Ignis trusted. They weren’t going to try to jump her after he left.

Nonetheless, she felt slightly uncomfortable talking about everything she’d witnessed in Insomnia without his comforting, reassuring presence over her shoulder. She’d just gotten through the mildly unpleasant parts when they were interrupted again.

“Heeeey, Marshal,” a freckle-faced young man, who looked about all of sixteen years old, called as he banged the door open and strode into the middle of the room.

“Gods,” Cor muttered, throwing her an apologetic look. “Prompto, what did I tell you about knocking?”

“Oops,” Prompto replied, looking at everyone gathered in the office, his pale cheeks turning pink. “My bad.”

Valeria turned in her chair to get a better look at him. “Prompto?” So, he wasn’t sixteen, even if he looked it. She’d never met the final member of the Prince’s entourage in person, but had certainly heard all about him from Ignis.

“Prompto, this is Valeria Soleil,” Cor said quickly. “We are discussing the occupation of Insomnia. If you’d like to stay, sit down and _be quiet_.”

“Valeria...” Prompto muttered, then his eyebrows shot up. “Hey, you’re Iggy’s not-girlfriend, right?”

“Um...” Valeria supposed that was as good a way to describe their relationship as any.

“You made it!” Prompto went on with a broad smile. “That’s awesome!”

“Prompto...” Cor chastised, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” Prompto drew his finger across his mouth and took a seat against the wall.

“Anyway, Miss Soleil,” Cor said, turning back to her. “You were saying you found some kind of research facility.”

Valeria bit her lip, trying to chase away the memories, still so clear and vivid, of all the terrible things she’d seen. “Yes. In the Manufacturing District. It was...” She took a deep breath. “It was _awful_.”

Cor gave her an encouraging nod. “Anything specific you can tell us would be an immense help.”

Valeria looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. “The Niffs were doing...experiments. Taking people, I think - people no one would miss. They were...” _Just spit it out_. “I don’t know, exactly. Infecting them with daemon blood or cells or whatever it was. Like they were trying to make...hybrids or something.”

“No.” The playful edge that had been in Prompto’s voice vanished. “It’s not part of an experiment. Daemons _are_ people.”

Valeria turned to the younger man in shock. “ _What?_ ”

Cor shook his head emphatically. “We don’t have any hard proof of that, yet. We can’t have unconfirmed information spreading arou-”

“We _saw_ it.” Prompto raised his voice. “We _saw_ what he did to Ravus, the labs, everything.”

Cor held up a hand. “I know. I don’t doubt you, Prompto. But maybe those were more Imperial experiments, like Miss Soleil said. We still can’t say for certain that every daemon out there was a person at one time.”

“It’s true though,” Prompto muttered, looking down at his bouncing foot.

Valeria looked between Cor and Prompto, trying to make sense of it all. She didn’t want to believe that, and yet...it explained so much of what she’d seen out on the road - the empty, bloodless clothes, the way the monsters seemed to congregate around homes and settlements, almost like they were clinging to some vestige of humanity. It was terrible, but...it could very well be true.

“At any rate,” Cor went on, “I don’t like the idea of our people being used as Imperial guinea pigs.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, we need to get things under control here before we can mount any kind of rescue.”

“I’ll try to help with EXINERIS,” Valeria said again. “I’ll...figure out some way to make them listen.”

“Thank you,” Cor said. Valeria just prayed she wouldn’t let them all down.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis hadn’t returned from training by the time Cor dismissed them, so Valeria sat on a bench with Prompto outside the office to wait.

“It’s awesome that you’re here,” he said, seemingly back to his more cheerful self. “Iggy was, like, _sooo_ worried.”

Valeria blushed. “He worries too much. About everyone else, that is. He needs to worry more about himself.”

“I know, right?” Prompto chuckled. “Maybe he’ll actually listen to you if you tell him to take a break.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

As Valeria looked at Prompto, his knowing smile, she was overcome with gratitude, and, without thinking, drew him into a fierce hug. Though she usually reserved her affection for those closest to her, and though they had only now just officially met, she felt as if she _knew_ Prompto, had known him for a long time.

“Thank you,” she she whispered, throwing her arms around his bony shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Ahh-” Prompto’s body instantly went rigid as he spluttered over her shoulder. “Wh-wh-what what what?”

“For helping Ignis.” She gave him one last squeeze before letting him go. “I’m so glad he has friends like you.”

“Oh, hehe, I...” Prompto ran a hand through his hair, his freckled face strawberry red. “T-t-that was, well, I mean...” His eyes darted about the room, anywhere to avoid meeting hers.

Mentally, Valeria chided herself. All this time on the road, and in an Imperial cage before that, and she’d forgotten her manners.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that, after what happened...” She looked down at her hands. “It _killed_ me that I couldn’t be there. But at least I knew he had you, and the others.”

She looked up and gave Prompto a smile, a smile she knew was a little sad. When it came to Ignis, and what he had lost, she couldn’t help it.

Prompto stared at her for a second, mouth slightly open, before setting his lips and giving her a knowing nod. “That’s what friends are for.”

Valeria nodded in turn, resisting the strange urge to hug him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it's fairly clear from the text, but I just wanted to reiterate that Cor does believe the bros' story about what everything that they learned in Zegnautus - it's just that the revelation that _all_ daemons were originally people is such an explosive one that he wants to keep a lid on it until he's got hard, scientific proof, since it is absolutely going to cause an uproar when it gets out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one got posted kinda late! I've been super busy all day and only got a chance to sit down at my computer just now.

Gladiolus growled to Ignis’s right, and Ignis spun away on his left heel, feeling the breeze as Gladio’s blunted practice sword slashed the air where Ignis had just been standing. Ignis crossed his practice daggers in front of his chest, blocking the thrust he already knew was coming. If only all his future opponents would be so considerate as to wear a chain on their belts and cycle through the exact same combination of movements during each sparring session.

“You’re holding back,” Ignis said, shoving Gladio away from him.

“Yeah,” Gladiolus said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, perhaps, it was. “Ain’t trying to kill ya, Iggy.”

“I’d like to think it would take more than a few hits to kill me,” Ignis replied, standing on the balls of his feet to prepare for another round. “Even from you.”

“Heh. Is that supposed to be trash talk?” The chain affixing Gladio’s wallet to his belt rattled as he shifted position, marking him as five or so feet in front of where Ignis stood.

Ignis slid backwards to stay out of the man’s considerable reach. “If I intend to antagonize you, you will know it.”

Gladiolus grunted with effort once more, and the gymnasium floor quaked with the pounding of his heavy boots. Ignis easily dodged the charge by leaping backwards, but gasped as something hard and unyielding collided with the back of his shins, causing him to lose his balance and topple forward. At least he managed to catch himself before his face hit the ground, causing only his knees and pride to be battered.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed under his breath.

“Bleachers behind you,” Gladio said, helping him back to his feet.

“Yes, I surmised that,” Ignis snapped, immediately regretting his tone. It wasn’t Gladio’s fault that, in the past six weeks or so, inanimate objects had become the bane of Ignis Scientia’s existence.

“You alright?” Gladiolus asked, concern lacing his usually gruff tone.

“Fine.”  _Just more bruises for Val to fuss about_. He wanted to be annoyed with her for that, but he knew if their situations were reversed, he would not have let the topic go so easily. Or, perhaps, at all.

“You’re getting better,” Gladiolus offered.

Ignis frowned. “Don’t patronize me.”

“When the hell have I ever done that?” _Well...never_ , Ignis supposed. That wasn’t Gladio’s way. “I’m serious. You’re getting better.”

“Until I run into the furniture,” Ignis muttered.

Beside him, Gladiolus suddenly lurched. “Ugh…”

All of Ignis’s self-effacing thoughts vanished in the wake of his friend’s sudden distress. “Are you ill?” he asked, sticking a hand out to brace the larger man’s shoulder.

When he got a whiff of Gladio’s sweat, smelling of stale alcohol, he realized that his friend _was_ sick, but there was no reason to be concerned.

“Allow me to guess...whiskey? Or perhaps bourbon?” Gladiolus had always had a penchant for hard liquor.

“Heh…” Gladio’s laugh was cut off by the audible churning of his stomach. “Your nose might be almost as good as Umbra’s, Iggy.”

“I don’t think one needs superior olfactory senses to tell that you’re hungover.”

“Well?”

Ignis tilted his head. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me to knock it off?” Gladio asked.

“Why would I? I’m not your boss.” And Ignis knew that, whatever his vices, Gladiolus took his duty - to both the Crown and his sister - every bit as seriously as Ignis took his own.

“Iris has really been on my ass,” Gladio grumbled.

Ignis crossed his arms over his chest. “It wouldn’t hurt you to help out around the house once in awhile.”

“It ain’t that,” Gladiolus said. “It’s, you know…”

Ignis shook his head. “I’m afraid I have very little experience with younger siblings.”

“She dropped out of school. She wants to be a Hunter.” Gladiolus sighed. “Gimme a break.”

Ignis smiled. “She’s growing up.”

“She’s _sixteen_ ,” Gladiolus replied. “And this ain’t the kind of world any kid should grow up in.”

Ignis gave his friend a sad, understanding smile. “We’ve very little say in that, unfortunately.”

“Just when the hell is he coming back?” Gladio growled. “It’s already been a damn month.”

“I don’t know,” Ignis admitted. Somehow he figured that their missing Prince was at the root of Gladio’s mood. If only he could offer some - any - insight into the Astral’s cryptric message.

At a loss, he merely asked, “Perhaps we should call it a day?” Ignis felt a bead of perspiration roll down his back between his shoulder blades, and wanted to at least rinse off before escorting Valeria home.

“You saying I need a shower?”

“I believe that would be prudent, yes.” Ignis once again shrugged off Gladio’s helping hand, instead nodding to indicate he would follow the larger man to the locker room. Ignis had memorized how many steps it took to cross the breadth of the gymnasium from the bleachers to the opposing wall, and was only uncertain of the location of the locker room door relative to his current position.

When they entered the locker room, him a pace behind Gladiolus, Ignis was abruptly stopped by Gladio’s outthrust arm. “Hold up.” Then he heard the sounds of clothing and other objects being kicked or shuffled around on the floor, Gladiolus grumbling all the while. “I keep telling them to pick up their shit,” he muttered. “This place is a pigsty.”

Given the state of Gladio’s lodgings, Ignis knew his friend’s insistence that the Hunters put their things away was more for _his_ benefit than anything else, but he merely nodded in response, allowing them both to keep up the pretense.

When the floor was cleared, he felt his way to the showers, removing his sunglasses and clothes, leaving them neatly folded on the nearest bench. Cold water dripped from the shower head, causing gooseflesh on his skin, all except for the scarred area around his left eye, which registered the mild discomfort not as temperature, but the sensation of pressure, like someone pressing their fingers into his cheekbone.

He hadn’t been able to speak with a real doctor about his injuries since leaving Altissia, but Ignis believed that some underlying nerves must have been damaged along with his eyeball and the surrounding tissue, leaving the wires of his nervous system crossed, so to speak. It wasn’t too painful - usually - but it was quite strange, feeling pressure when the rest of his body felt cold.

“That was your friend in the Marshal’s office, right?” Gladio asked from the shower stall beside him. “The one you’ve been trying to get a hold of?”

“Indeed,” Ignis replied as he ran a bar of soap under his armpits.

“Must be pretty relieved.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said once more. _If you want to know something, Gladio, you’re going to have to ask_.

“So...you still up for that run to Galdin next week?”

Not the question Ignis had been expecting, and frankly a topic he’d entirely forgotten about since Valeria had arrived. The Hunters had intercepted a transmission from Galdin Quay, begging for power-related supplies - batteries, lightbulbs, and such - and promising a load of fresh fish in exchange. Lestallum had no problem charging batteries, but they were going to have a serious problem with food very, very soon. Rather than make it a one-time exchange, Ignis had volunteered to accompany Gladio to try to work out some kind of ongoing trade.

“Of course,” Ignis replied after rinsing the suds from his hair. “I can hardly leave negotiations in the hands of a man who seems to think shirts are optional items of clothing.”

“It's like I keep telling you - intimidation factor,” Gladio said in reply.

Ignis joked, but the truth of the matter was, he didn’t _want_ to leave Valeria so soon, now that she’d finally arrived. He didn’t want to, but the city and the people needed him, and he’d promised the Marshal to help however he could - and negotiating was something he still _could_ do, without question.

“She can stay with Iris, if you want,” Gladio went on. “Your friend.”

“I think she would prefer that.” Ignis turned off the water, ran a towel through his wet hair, then slung it around his waist. “Thank you.”

“Heh, well...ain’t the only reason I’m asking,” Gladio said as he stepped out of the shower. Ignis knew the man hadn’t bothered to cover himself, and knew that it had very little to do with the fact that Ignis was now blind. What had he just said? _Intimidation factor_. Ignis coughed to disguise a laugh.

“You’d like an adult to keep an eye on Iris?” Ignis ventured, returning to their conversation. He donned his sunglasses and tucked his shirt into his jeans before zipping the fly.

“It ain’t exactly babysitting, but…” Gladio’s voice trailed off into another groan. “Ain’t showers supposed to _help_ with a hangover?”

“I believe that’s the actual state of intoxication itself. If it’s any consolation, I can barely smell you anymore.”

“Ha ha…Iggy’s got jokes.” Gladiolus thumped him on the arm. “Imma head home and sleep it off. You good?”

“On finding my way back to the Marshal’s office?” Ignis asked. “I should hope so.”

He was still a bit fuzzy on other locations in the building - the classrooms converted into the Hunter barracks, the makeshift armory, the cafeteria - but the gymnasium and ‘Vice-principal’ Cor Leonis’s quarters were the two parts of the former school that he frequented the most.

Ignis made his way up the stairs and turned down the hallway to the Marshal’s office, following the sound of Valeria’s voice and - somewhat to his surprise - Prompto’s chattering.

“Hey, Iggy,” Valeria called to him.

“Ignis! What’s up?” Prompto said.

“Prompto,” Ignis nodded toward his voice, then turned his head slightly to where he thought Valeria was sitting. “I apologize for keeping you so long.”

“Yes, my social calendar is really full this afternoon.” Valeria’s sarcasm caused Ignis to grin.

“Don’t worry, Iggy,” Prompto chirped. “I kept her company.”

 _Oh, dear_. Ignis may have grown quite fond of Prompto, but it certainly hadn’t happened overnight. “Are your ears still attached?” he asked Valeria. “Or did he talk them both off?”

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Prompto muttered.

“Prompto is a perfectly lovely conversationalist,” Valeria said, clothing rustling as she rose to her feet. Ignis was certain Prompto was blushing profusely at such a compliment from a woman.

“You’re all scruffy,” she said playfully, nudging Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis raked a self-conscious hand through his damp, messy hair.

“You think _that’s_ scruffy?” Prompto asked, incredulous. “You should see Gladio after three straight days of camping and no shower.”

The smell was worse than the sight, in Ignis’s opinion, but he kept that to himself.

“I said ‘scruffy,’ not troglodyte.”

Ignis snorted a laugh. _Accurate_.

“Huh?” Prompto said.

“Caveman,” Ignis explained.

“Ohhh. Yeah.” Prompto laughed. “Pretty much. So, uh...you guys...”

Ignis shot a threatening look in Prompto’s general direction. “What?”

“Are you, like...living together?”

“Where else would she stay?” Ignis retorted.

“Don’t you only have one bed?”

“Yes,” Valeria replied smoothly. “And there’s no space for you.”

 _For Gods’ sakes…_ “I sleep on the couch.” Ignis felt blood rush to his cheeks. “And I have lunch to prepare. Shall we?”

“Alright,” Valeria said as he took her elbow. “Bye, Prompto. It was nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Totally! See you guys!”

Ignis would have considered inviting Prompto over for lunch if he hadn’t been acting so Gods damned nosy; he knew that the only time the younger man had a proper meal was if Ignis or Iris prepared one for him. But the mishap at training this morning had already left Ignis feeling out of sorts, and the last thing he wanted was to unfairly vent his frustrations on a friend.

When they reached the front steps of the building, Ignis released his grip on her elbow and breathed deeply, despite the fetid city air assaulting his nostrils, preparing himself for the mentally exhausting task of getting them back home.

Valeria grabbed his hand and put it back on her arm. “I think I know the way back,” she said gently. _Because you’re so obviously hopeless at taking the lead_ , Ignis imagined her saying. He knew he was being unfair - Valeria would never say something like that to him, even if it was unequivocally true.

“How was the rest of your meeting with the Marshal?” Ignis asked, trying to distract himself from his own, dark thoughts.

Valeria sighed. “I don’t know if anything I said really helped. It’s just…” Ignis felt the muscles of her arm tense. “Whenever I saw the Niffs, I wasn’t thinking about the size of their patrols, or what kind of weapons they were carrying or anything. I just didn’t want them to kill me.”

 _I’m so sorry_ , he wanted to say, although he realized at this point he was beginning to sound like a broken record with his apologies.

“You’re a civilian,” he said aloud. “Of course you weren’t looking for such things.”

“I know, I…” Alongside him, her shoulder sagged. “How was your training?”

“Mildly humiliating,” Ignis replied before he could stop himself. _That’s right, Specs_. _Keep whinging_. “I apologize.” There it was again. “You don’t want to hear me complain.”

“You can complain,” Valeria said. “You can say whatever you want. I told you before, Ignis - you don’t have to _be_ a certain way for me.”

 _But I do_ , he thought. _I do, because if you knew how unsure I am, how frightened, you wouldn’t see me as a man, but a sad, lost child_. And pity was the antithesis of desire.

 

* * *

 

Valeria only took one wrong turn on the way back to the apartment; if Ignis noticed, he didn’t say anything. The sea of people spilling out of the city streets was still overwhelming and vaguely frightening - if she’d learned anything in the past six months, it was that people only looked out for themselves.

People, except for Ignis. And probably Prompto, Cor Leonis, and the others too. _I want to be like that_ , she thought. _I don’t want to be bitter and cruel like everyone else_.

“When was the last time you went outside the city gates?” Valeria asked as the town square came into view. A large fountain, which had probably been quite a relaxing sight in its heyday, now sat among the crowd, its playful spouts no longer running, water in the basin filthy and brown.

“Not since we arrived, I believe, about three weeks ago. They hadn’t erected the gate then.”

“How do all the people outside not starve?” she asked.

Ignis shook his head. “I suppose their friends and family lucky enough to make it inside smuggle out what they can. But, that’s hardly an acceptable solution.”

“No,” Valeria agreed. “It’s not.” And if not for the stroke of luck that had allowed her to hold onto her identification, she would be stuck outside there with them, hungry and dirty and afraid.

“I hate the Niffs,” she said. “I really do. But this…”

“The people out there aren’t soldiers,” Ignis said. “They had nothing to do with what happened to the Crown City.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you speak to EXINERIS about it?” Ignis suggested. “When you meet with them.”

 _Because I’m probably going to be laughed right out of their offices_ , she thought. Aloud, she said, “I’ll try.”

Once, Valeria would have marched right up to the CEO’s desk, nose in the air, every fiber of her being commanding confidence - even arrogance, perhaps. It was so easy to be self-assured when you had the weight of millions of gil behind you. Now, she was a beggar, a person who ran away from her fears while leaving others behind to suffer. _You can’t go back to who you were_ , she thought. _That life is gone now_. But she didn’t want to be a scared little mouse anymore.

They lapsed into silence then, walking arm in arm. The streetlights glowed warmly in the constant darkness, bathing the cracked, cobbled streets in soft gold. It would almost be romantic, if not for the ubiquitous stink of filth and getting jostled by a passing stranger’s shoulder or elbow every twenty feet. What would her mother think if she could see Valeria now? ‘ _Get your head out of the clouds, girl_ ,’ her mother’s voice came. ‘ _Romance is a waste of time_.’ Or so she had always said. But hanging onto her wedding ring told a different story. _Maybe it just hurt too much_ , Valeria thought, unconsciously moving closer to Ignis’s side.

But she knew what her mother would say about meeting with EXINERIS. ‘ _Don’t let those idiots push you around. Don’t you dare take no for an answer_.’

 _I won’t, Mom. I won’t just try - I’ll_ **_succeed_**.

The chaos of the Market brought Valeria back to reality and out of hypothetical conversations with dead relatives. She grabbed Ignis’s gloved hand, interlocking their fingers, then pushed and elbowed a path through to his apartment.

After they ate lunch (cold, but oh-so-delicious sandwiches, again), Valeria began to clear the table as Ignis went to use the bathroom. Somewhat curiously, she noticed light coming from under the closed door, and watched him switch it back off upon exit.

“Ignis, can you tell when the lights are on?” Given what he’d told her over the phone, Valeria had assumed he couldn’t see _anything_ at all, but perhaps she had misunderstood.

“I can,” he said. “But that’s about the extent of it.”

“Oh.” Valeria felt both pity and joy at his reply. _At least he’s not entirely in the dark_ , she tried to tell herself. The thought only offered a modicum of comfort.

“It may seem like a trifling thing,” Ignis went on, as if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, “but, given the circumstances, it’s actually quite useful.”

Valeria thought about that for a moment. “If you can tell where it’s light and dark, you can tell where it’s safe.”

“Indeed. Safe from the daemons, anyway.”

“That’s good,” Valeria said. She knew she had to stop looking at this as what he had lost, and focus on what he still had (his life, his wits, his strength), but it was just so damn hard. _Still_ , she thought, _I must do it for his sake._

And while they were addressing the blind elephant in the room, she thought she might as well get out what she’d been grappling with since reuniting with him in Lestallum. “Iggy, I...I want to help you, however I can. But I don’t want to insult you by making assumptions.”

The way Ignis seemed to hang his head made her wish she hadn’t said anything at all. In the nearly ten years that she’d known him, he’d always been so independent, self-sufficient. Valeria remembered riding the subway with him when they were fourteen and feeling so grown-up, buying her own ticket, going where she wanted without any adults tagging along.

She had always been on her own too, ever since her father had bolted, but her mother had ensured she was surrounded by a handful of attendants - butlers, bodyguards, babysitters. Not Ignis. His uncle made sure he was provided for financially, but Ignis had always had to take care of himself. How could he ask for help now?

“It’s not insulting,” Ignis said quietly. “It’s…” He let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t be ashamed, Iggy. Please.” Valeria stood over where he sat on the couch and gently rested his head on her chest. “You know I think you’re wonderful, no matter what. I just want to help.”

Ignis grabbed her waist, pressing his face against her body. “...Thank you.” His voice was thick, quivering.

 _Oh, Iggy_. Valeria buried her hands in the back of his hair, rested her head on top of his. She felt his chest heaving as he began to quietly weep. Probably for the first time since everything had happened, knowing Ignis.

“Forgive me,” he mumbled, as Valeria slid his sunglasses up and over his head, placing them in his lap so he’d be able to find them later.

“Shh, Iggy.” She held him tightly, knowing, perhaps instinctively, that he needed this. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

 

* * *

 

His sudden outburst of emotion left Ignis feeling more than a little humiliated, and more than a lot relieved. Even he could only bend so far before breaking.

 _You’re wonderful_. _You’re wonderful_. Only a fool could think that of him as he was now, a shadow of the man he used to be. But Valeria wasn’t a fool. She was the cleverest person he knew, and she’d offered those words to him freely, unsolicited.

And it had been that expression of kindness, not scorn or pity, that had finally split him open, spilling out everything he’d been burying deep since Insomnia fell. Ignis couldn’t recall the last time he’d cried; intellectually, he knew that grieving was essential to processing loss, but it still felt like weakness in him, a weakness he was unable to stem once it started.

“I apologize,” he repeated once he was finished, slipping his sunglasses back on and extricating himself from Valeria’s warm embrace.

“It’s okay, Iggy,” she said gently, rubbing his arm. “It’s okay. Want some water?”

“Please,” Ignis said, swallowing the phlegm in the back of his throat, despising how brittle and raw his voice sounded. _How you must look to her_ , he thought as he mopped the moisture from his face with his handkerchief. _Like a little, lost puppy_.

He drank the water she brought him, suspecting she was watching him all the while. Even as it filled him with shame, Ignis had to admit he felt undeniably lighter, lighter than he had in months, since before Altissia.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, handing Valeria the empty glass. “For dealing with me.”

“I like ‘dealing’ with you,” she said simply. He heard her rinsing the glass in the kitchen sink, the gentle clink as she put it away in the cabinet.

“What’s on the radio?” she asked, pausing where he knew his table was, midway between the kitchen and where Ignis sat on the couch.

“Ah.” Ignis lifted his head, grateful for the change in subject. “Hunters use radio frequencies to communicate when they’re out in the field, since cell reception is so poor.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “So you’re not hosting your own talk show?”

In spite of himself, Ignis cracked a smile. “Goodness, no. Can you imagine?”

“I’d listen,” Valeria said. "You have a great voice."

He shook his head, still smiling. Since the Marshal had sidelined him, Ignis tried to assist however he could, monitoring the hunters’ calls, offering strategic advice or suggestions, coordinating rescues or aid.

“Someone’s been broadcasting old radio serials,” he offered. “If that’s more your thing.” Ignis was fairly certain it was just an ordinary hobbyist, not an actual radio station, but regardless of the origin, any sort of entertainment was a welcome escape in these dark times.

“Really?” He was surprised to hear excitement in Valeria’s voice. “I loved those as a kid. My dad and I used to listen to them at night while we waited for Mom to get home.”

“Your father,” Ignis broached the usually sore subject while she fiddled with the radio dials. “Is he…?”

“Dead? No. Last time I checked he was somewhere in Accordo.” Ignis couldn’t help but feel a little shocked at the glib way she spoke of her father’s safety. There may have been little love lost between them, but he would’ve thought her mother’s death would have forced some sort of reconciliation.

“You didn’t go there?”

“There’s no way I’m getting on a boat in this mess.” Valeria found the station with the serials and joined Ignis on the couch, sitting so close their sides were touching. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

“Oh.” Ignis cleared his throat, feeling a flush creep up the back of his neck. Maybe she really was a fool - a beautiful, brilliant, bloody fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really hurts me to write Iggy struggling like this, but it would be unrealistic if he wasn't. I think during the latter part of their journey in the game, it was easy to push aside since they had daemons and magitek and everything else trying to kill them, but now that he has (a lot of) time to himself and no Noctis to follow around and wait on, Ignis is really having to confront what happened to him and what that means for his future.


	20. Chapter 20

_We are EXINERIS_.

Valeria looked up at the large billboard lit up by a trio of spotlights in the darkness, and recalled her mother’s derisive laughter every time the advertisement used to play on the radio. “Unless you’re a man,” her mother would say with a sneer.

She clung to that memory now, trying to settle the fluttering nerves in her stomach. She wondered if this was what it was like to have a job interview - and thought it was little surprise that her classmates who didn’t have a career lined up (courtesy of nepotism) after they graduated had been so frantic and stressed. _Everyone’s counting on you_ , she reminded herself. _No pressure_.

The city of Lestallum was built in tiers, and the power plant and EXINERIS building stood at the top. People called it the ‘Ivory Tower,’ and Valeria could see why. The EXINERIS building was sleek white concrete, reminiscent of Insomnia’s modern skyscrapers, towering over the quaint, stone structures below. Unlike seemingly everything else in Lestallum, it didn’t appear to be coated in a thick layer of grime.

Valeria approached the guard blocking the narrow path to the building, a man so burly he might’ve given Gladiolus Amicitia a run for his money. _So_ , she thought as the man scowled down at her, _they do allow men to work here, at least as their goons_.

“Leave your complaints at the central office in the town square,” the man said in a tired, well-rehearsed monotone.

“I’m not here to complain,” Valeria replied. “I’m here to meet with the company President.”

The man arched a bushy eyebrow at that. “Do you have an appointment?”

An appointment? Was that something people still cared about? “No,” Valeria admitted. “But it’s important.” She motioned at the man’s earpiece. “Tell her it’s Vivienne Soleil’s daughter. She’ll want to meet with me.” _At least to laugh at how far I’ve fallen_.

“That name supposed to mean something to me?”

“No,” Valeria said. “But it will to her. Go on. _Please_.” She looked up at the guard through her lashes, giving him her best doe eyes, and he finally relented with a scowl, turning away to mutter something into his earpiece. He looked more than a little surprised when the reply came and he moved aside, motioning for her to go ahead.

As she made her way across the narrow bridge that led to the building, Valeria peered over the edge, marveling at such a close view of the Disc, its jagged, crystalline spires glowing soft blue in the darkness. She could feel its heat, its _power_ , emanating from below, even if she didn’t understand how it worked.

A young woman, dressed in heels and a skirt, met Valeria at the door to escort her to the President’s office. Valeria couldn’t help but gape as they walked; it was as if she’d entered a doorway to another time, a time six months ago, before everything had gone wrong. The hallways were devoid of squatters and loitering refugees, the tiled floors clean and polished. She was acutely aware of the sound of her footsteps echoing in the sudden, overwhelming silence. Her companion made no attempt at small talk as they rode the elevator to the highest floor, only uttering a terse “you can go in” when they reached to President’s office.

“Soleil.” Silvia Fontaine had been the president of EXINERIS for as long as Valeria could remember. She was of a similar age to Valeria’s mother, and attractive in a harsh, masculine way, her short, auburn hair neatly parted to the side and slicked close to her head.

“It’s Valerie, right?”

“Valeria,” she corrected, taking a seat opposite the woman at the broad, mahogany desk. _We both know damn well you know my name_.

“Valeria Soleil,” Silvia said, eyeing Valeria in such a way that she felt akin to a specimen under the microscope. She knew she was woefully under-dressed - it wasn’t as if Valeria had a wardrobe full of clothing options to choose from - but she told herself she shouldn’t be embarrassed. _They_ were the ones who should be embarrassed - people were starving, _dying_ out there and EXINERIS was up here operating as if nothing had changed.

“You know, it took me a minute. ‘Soleil.’” Silvia gave a haughty laugh. “I always thought it was strange that Vivienne took her husband’s name.”

 _She was ashamed of her family_ , Valeria thought. Aloud, she said, “It was fitting, given her profession.”

“And she’s sending her daughter to...do what, exactly?”

“She...” Valeria opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed hard. “My mother’s dead.”

Something almost like disappointment passed over Silvia’s sharp features, but she quickly schooled them back to neutrality.

“Ah. My condolences. But, my question still stands.”

“I’d like a job.” If her mother had a grave, she would have been rolling in it.

Silvia barked a laugh that was anything but cheerful. “So you can run me out of Leide using my own research?”

“No.” Valeria shook her head. “I’m not here for your trade secrets. Royal Energy doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s obvious you’ve got your hands full, and I think, given my particular skillset-”

Silvia cut her off. “You know how to run a city full of refugees?”

Valeria looked the older woman in the eye. “I know about as much as you.”

Silvia held her gaze for a long moment before giving her a small, approving smile. “You don’t look much like her, but there’s no doubt you’re Vivienne’s daughter.” When Valeria didn’t respond, she added, “That’s a compliment.”

“Thanks,” Valeria said, unsure if she should be flattered or concerned. Her mother had certainly possessed plenty of positive qualities, but there were things about her that Valeria wanted nothing to do with - in particular, her uncanny ability to make someone feel impossibly small, to make their best efforts seem laughably insignificant.

“So tell me, Valeria Soleil. In your _expertise_ , what can I do to make Lestallum a better place?”

Hardly a question with a simple answer, but Valeria knew this was meant to be a test more than a genuine solicitation for advice. She considered her words carefully before speaking.

“To start with the basics: food. Gather the city’s resources and supplies, and start rationing now, _before_ people start starving.” Valeria hated to admit that the inspiration for that suggestion had come from the Empire. But when it came to keeping a dejected, frightened populace in check, the Niffs absolutely knew what they were doing.

“And what do I tell the merchants when I take their supplies? That it’s for the greater good?”

“Well...yes,” Valeria replied. “They aren’t going to like it, but it’s better than letting people starve to death.”

“And when this blows over? Then what do I say? ‘Sorry your business is ruined?’”

Valeria frowned. “‘Blows over?’ Do you really think this is just going to go away, like a bad winter or something? Prince - no, King Noctis is the only one who can bring back the light, and he’s...he’s somewhere far away.”

Silvia rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that mystical mumbo-jumbo. ‘The Chosen King.’” She clucked her tongue. “A smart girl like you should know better than to subscribe to such nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. It’s-”

“It’s a story concocted by the Crownsguard to disguise their obvious failure.”

Valeria wanted to slap her, but she kept her hands folded in her lap and bit her tongue. _Ignis isn’t a liar_ , she thought. _And he’s not a failure, either_.

“This,” Silvia gestured at the dark window behind Valeria’s back, “is obviously some sort of atmospheric phenomenon, that will either pass, or be solved by science - not bedtime stories.”

“That doesn’t mean the sun is coming back anytime soon. You have to plan for what you know.” Valeria jabbed her index finger onto the desktop. “And what we _know_ is that people have to eat. They have to have a safe place to live. I know it’s not fair to ask people to give up their businesses so that foreign refugees don’t starve, but then, _nothing_ about this situation is fair.”

Silvia leaned forward on the desk, her chin resting on her steepled fingers, scrutinizing Valeria with the sort of critical gaze that was painfully reminiscent of her mother. After what felt like an eternity, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Very well. You’d like a job? Go and convince these people to contribute to ‘the greater good.’”

Valeria’s mouth fell open, and she quickly clamped it shut. That was certainly cutting to the chase...and certainly not the sort of job she had expected to be assigned straight away. _She thinks I’ll fail_. It was a test - an impossible test.

“Fine.” Valeria rose, swelling with determination at the challenge. “I’ll be back when it’s done.” _I’ll show you just how much like my mother I can be_.

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Valeria announced as she opened the door to Ignis’s apartment. “They gave me a job.”

Ignis paused his (careful) chopping of vegetables for their lunch and turned toward her, a smile beaming on his face. “Splendid news! I knew you could convince them.”

Valeria felt herself blushing as she hung up her coat. “Thanks, Iggy.”

“And what is it that you’ll be doing?” Valeria was relieved that he didn’t resume wielding his paring knife while trying to carry on a conversation.

“Only convincing all the merchants in Lestallum to hand over all their foodstuffs so the city can start rationing. Only that.”

Ignis chuckled, but then frowned when she didn’t join him. “You’re not joking.”

“No,” Valeria replied, flopping down on the couch.

“But that’s-”

“Impossible? I know. She’s testing me.”

Ignis cocked his head, then shook it. “Ah, my delightfully stubborn friend. You never could resist a challenge.”

“Nope,” Valeria agreed, stretching her legs.

“Gladio and I are going to make a short trip to Galdin in a few days, but I can assist you when I return.”

Valeria’s smile faltered. “Galdin...Galdin Quay? You’re _leaving_?” She didn’t even realize she’d leaped to her feet, that her hands were balled into fists.

Ignis sighed, rinsed his hands in the sink and wiped them dry with his handkerchief. “We’re going to try to establish a supply line with the fishermen there. We won’t be long.”

Valeria felt herself shaking, shaking all over. _He’s going to leave, he’s going to die, he won’t come back_...

“You’re going to _leave_ me?” Her voice had gone shrill, bird-like.

Ignis held up his hands. “It’s just for a few days. Three at most. Val, I truly am sorry. But, it’s like you say - people need food. People need our help.”

“What people? People like that man in the market, who treat you like shit just because of how you talk?” She knew she had been espousing this exact same belief less than an hour ago at the EXINERIS offices, but this was...it was _different_. _He_ was going _outside_.

Ignis shook his head, crossing the small space between the kitchen and where she stood. “They’re just frightened. It makes them-”

“Assholes,” Valeria interjected. “It makes them selfish, self-serving assholes who would leave you to die to save their own skins.” _I would know_.

“I...” Ignis swallowed. “Nevertheless, it is my duty to help them.”

“Ignis.” All the anger drained from her voice, replaced by gentle certainty. She knew what this was really about. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to _prove_ anything to anyone.” _Please_.

Ignis’s brow furrowed as he tried to work out a counter-argument, eventually hanging his head. “What good am I to the King if I can’t even partake in a simple supply run?”

“Dammit, Iggy,” Valeria said. “I’m not saying you _can’t_. I just...I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to be alone again.”

“You won’t.” Ignis put his hands on her shoulders. “You can stay with Iris Amicitia until I return. And I _will_ return. I’ve only just found you, Val.” He squeezed her arms. “I’m not going to let you go.”

Valeria hung her head, looking down at his hand, his thumb just inches away from the place where the Niffs had shot her. “Iggy, you said you haven’t been out there since... You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Then _tell_ me,” he implored.

Valeria’s breath hitched. She heard screaming, pleading, inhuman screeching, her pulse pounding in her ears as she ran, and all around her was the darkness - cold, stifling, merciless. “I can’t,” she whispered. _I can’t go back there_.

“Valeria...”

“Please, Iggy.” No matter what she may have thought of it in the past, she had never asked him not to do his job - or what he perceived as his job - before now. “If you go out there, you...you’ll die.”

“It’s a supply run, Val. Not a battle. The Marshal would never allow it if he thought there was a real chance of danger.”

What could she say to change his mind? _Nothing_ , she realized. _He’s not yours. He was never yours_. And no matter how drastically the world changed, that one, hard fact remained constant. _He’s not yours_.

 

* * *

 

It was with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience that Ignis climbed into the cramped cab of Gladio’s truck and embarked for Galdin Quay. After it became clear that she wasn’t going to talk him out of it, Valeria had barely spoken to him; he wondered if she realized the silent treatment was doubly punishing to a blind man.

This morning, before they left, she pressed a hefty, dented flashlight into his hands, with the cryptic explanation that it had saved her life more than once. Of course, they were well stocked with lights and lanterns, bulbs and batteries, but Ignis took it anyway, more as a good luck charm than anything else.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, making a futile attempt at getting comfortable while smashed against the passenger side door, and ran a fingertip over his uncle’s cuff-links at the end of his sleeves. The Tenebraen floral motif worked into the silver was far too intricate and delicate to make out by touch alone, but he remembered them clearly - his uncle had worn them daily for as long as Ignis could remember. They’d always afforded him a certain class, an elegance, that Ignis hoped to emulate during the negotiations. And wearing them now was a small tribute to the man who had raised him, to the family and country he had barely known.

The truck Gladiolus had ‘acquired’ (Ignis didn’t press him on the matter) could have sat a man, woman, and small child semi-comfortably along the bench seat; three grown men was confining, to say the least. Prompto sat between Ignis and Gladiolus, and every time he moved he jabbed a sharp elbow into one or both of their sides (and given the fact that Prompto couldn’t sit still for more than thirty seconds, it meant Ignis was getting elbowed quite frequently).

The lack of space, and the way the truck jumped and shook with every crack in the road, the way they had to raise their voices to talk over the sputtering engine, made Ignis nostalgic for the smooth ride and luxurious comfort of the Regalia. _Rest in peace, old girl. You served us well_.

Gladiolus slowly weaved through the refugees crowded just outside the city gates, and Ignis could _feel_ Prompto’s discomfort, his dismay at the knowledge that the majority of these people were of Niflheim extraction.

“So,” Ignis said, trying to keep Prompto’s mind off the unpleasant subject. “Are you all set to assist Wiz at the Chocobo Post?”

Prompto wasn’t going with them all the way to Galdin Quay; they were going to drop him off at the Chocobo Post en route. Wiz had contacted the hunters for help keeping his birds safe from predators - he had plenty of lights to deter the daemons, but as the monsters systematically killed off everything in the surrounding forests, hungry predators were forced to range closer and closer to the Chocobo Post in search of food. And knowing Prompto’s particular fondness for the creatures, it seemed the perfect task for him to take the lead.

“Yup,” Prompto replied. “I wrote down everything you said to do so I won’t forget.”

Ignis frowned. “Those were merely suggestions, Prompto. This is _your_ mission. You don’t have to follow what I said to the letter.”

“Yeah but....you’re smart,” Prompto replied. “You know everything.”

 _And you need to learn how to lead_ , Ignis thought. He was far more capable than he gave himself credit for.

“You think Cindy likes chocobos?” Prompto asked.

 _This again_ , Ignis lamented. They - that is to say, Prompto - had speculated on everything from her favorite color to preferred vacation destination. And Ignis was about ninety-nine percent sure Prompto had never bothered to ask her in person about any of it.

“I think she likes cars better,” Gladio said.

“Hmm...” Prompto drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Maybe a car dealership will need some help.”

Ignis barked out a laugh.

“What?” Prompto asked.

“If a car dealership’s overrun by daemons, they can just leave.” Gladio must have been smirking, because Prompto went on the defensive.

“Oh, it’s so easy for you two, isn’t it? You both have have girlfriends.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Gladio replied.

“No,” Prompto huffed. “You have, like, twenty. And you,” he jabbed Ignis in the shoulder. “I don’t even want to hear this ‘we’re just friends’ crap.”

“Well, we are,” Ignis replied.

“You know what she did to me? She came up to me all misty-eyed and said,” Prompto took Ignis’s arm and laid his head on his shoulder, speaking in a high, quavering voice, “‘Thank you so much for helping Iggy. I was _so_ worried about him.’”

Ignis shrugged him off. “She most certainly did not.”

“Okay, maybe not exactly like that. But she did say that to me.” Prompto sighed. “I wish someone would worry about me like that.”

“We were _all_ worried about you like that after you fell from the train,” Ignis replied.

“Yeah, but you’re not girls,” Prompto said.

“It _is_ nicer coming from a chick,” Gladio added.

Ignis frowned. It didn’t feel nice at the moment, only adding to the already substantial guilt he was feeling about leaving her behind in Lestallum just days after she’d finally arrived.

“Ya know, Valeria is like, really pretty. But in a totally classy way. _Totally_ your type,” Prompto said. “I like her.”

“Good to know she has the Prompto seal of approval,” Ignis replied dryly. Although, he’d yet to meet anyone with breasts who didn’t garner Prompto’s approval.

“Definitely,” Prompto said. “Oh, uh...not that I’m, like... I mean, you have dibs. Obviously.”

From the driver’s seat, Gladiolus snorted a laugh.

“Yes, I was terribly worried about that,” Ignis said sardonically.

“Nah, it’s cool.”

 _Truly oblivious_ , Ignis thought. But while they were on the subject... “Tell me something, Prompto. You spoke with her for a while. How does she look to you?”

“Valeria?” Prompto took a deep breath. “Well, let’s see...she has brown hair, kinda tall-”

Ignis scoffed while Gladiolus laughed again. “Prompto, I know what she looks like. What I mean is: does she look ill to you? Tired? Worried?”

“Uhh...”

Ignis realized it was a difficult question to answer for someone with no baseline. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Prompto. “I’ve some photos of her on there, from before.”

Prompto gave an awkward, shaky laugh. “They’re not like...you know, uh....pictures, like...”

When Ignis realized what he was asking, he couldn’t hide his offense. “Stars, Prompto! No.” _What sort of woman do you think she is_?

“Like Iggy has that kinda stuff on his phone,” Gladiolus said sarcastically.

“Okay, okay. Just checking.” There was a pause as Prompto thumbed through the menus. “Wow, you took a lot of shots of food while we were on the road, huh?”

Ignis had snapped a photograph of anything interesting or particularly appetizing that caught his eye, in hopes of recreating the recipe later on. _Fat lot of good it will do me now_.

“Please try to focus on the task at hand.”

“Right, right...Okay, here’s one! So, Val likes Ebony too, huh?”

Ignis knew exactly which photograph Prompto was looking at; he could still envision it clearly in his mind. It was the last photo he’d taken with her, several weeks before he’d left the Crown City. An Ebony vending machine had just been installed downtown, the first of its kind, and so the pair of them, naturally thrilled with this new development, had posed with it - him with his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders squared like a proud father; and her on the other side, arms spread like a magician revealing her final, best trick. Ignis was fairly certain the person who had snapped the photo for them thought they were both mildly touched in the head.

“ _Of course_ she does,” Gladiolus said. “Nice picture, by the way.”

“Gladio, please keep your eyes on the road,” Ignis chided. “And yes, naturally, she likes Ebony.” The woman had good taste. “Now, back to what I asked...”

“Right, well...” Prompto paused. “I don’t know. She looks _really_ happy here.”

So she did. Ignis remembered her smile well - a real smile, broad and showing all her teeth, not the phony, posed kind that she was all too good at conjuring up when the occasion required. He’d spent many nights on the road after Insomnia fell looking at that photo, hoping against hope that he would see that smile once more. Now, just because he couldn’t literally _see_ it, didn’t mean his hopes were dashed. She could still be happy; perhaps even with him.

“Does she...does she not look happy now?”

“No one does.” Prompto’s voice was suddenly quiet, all the cheer sucked right out of him.

Ignis sighed, knowing that was probably true. If his suspicions were correct, if it would really be months or even years before Noctis returned with the light, could they really get along in despair for so long? He may have lacked Prompto’s talent for optimism, but he knew that, at some point, they had to stop merely surviving and start living in the now, taking whatever small pleasures where they could, when they could.

Elsewise, Ardyn and the daemons had already won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing their argument made me sad (′︿‵｡)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO sorry this is late, guys! It's just been one of those weeks D:
> 
> Hopefully the 4.7k words makes up for it.

For the first time since she’d arrived in Lestallum, Valeria had no appetite, pushing her food around on her plate.

“You don’t like it?” Iris asked, eying her from across the table at the Amicitia’s apartment. Valeria had been expecting Gladiolus Amicitia’s younger sister to be some sort of hulking bruiser, and was surprised to find that, aside from being rather tall for her age, she was quite slender, with a soft face and plucky demeanor that could only be described as cute.

“I know the canned stuff is kind of bland,” Iris went on. “But Gladdy says not to waste money on stuff that can go bad.”

“We’ll have fresh food from the garden soon, right Iris?” The boy, Talcott, asked. Valeria didn’t mind teenagers - it hadn’t been so long ago that she was one herself - but she had no idea what to do with kids. She had no younger siblings, no little cousins that she knew of, and children certainly had never been allowed in the boardroom at work. Even when she had been Talcott’s age, she had tried her very hardest not to act like it.

“I hope so,” Iris replied to Talcott. She pointed toward the suite’s balcony beyond the sliding glass doors, where there was a small plot of soil warmed by a sunlamp. “I figured it was worth a try.”

Valeria nodded dumbly, her distracted mind only now catching up to the conversation. “The food’s fine,” she said. “I’m just…”

“Worried?” Iris supplied. “You don’t have to worry about Ignis as long as he’s with Gladdy.” From the way she spoke and the earnest look on her face, Valeria knew Iris wasn’t just saying that to assuage her. She truly believed her brother was invincible. _I thought my mother was invincible too_.

“My grandma used to say I was lucky to be born a girl, since all the men in our family are ‘cursed’ with bravery.” Iris laughed, but then turned somber. “My grandfather was killed trying to help someone that fell in front of a train. He didn’t even know the guy at all, he just…” She shrugged. “Dad was a little more level-headed, but Gladdy…” She shook her head. “I remember when he got his face all cut up, protecting Noct at a bar. He was _happy_. So, you don’t have to worry about Ignis if Gladdy’s around. He’d take a bullet for him, and probably laugh about it afterwards.”

Valeria narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t that worry _you_?”

Iris pursed her lips. “Nah. He’s an ox. It’ll take a lot more than that to kill my big brother.”

Valeria didn’t have the heart to tell her that, beneath all that muscle and bravado, her big brother bled like any other man.

She forced herself to eat, unable to allow herself to waste food even when her guts were twisted into knots. If Gladiolus was so eager to to protect others, why had he left behind the two people who depended on him the most? It seemed that he was every bit as ignorant of the danger outside the city as Ignis.

Or, perhaps like Ignis, he was out there chasing his shattered pride, desperate to reaffirm some sense of purpose. For as long as the Caelum dynasty had sat on the throne, Amicitias had served as their shields. Valeria knew what it was like to grow up with the weight of parental expectation on your shoulders; for Gladiolus, that burden was multiplied by generations. Losing Noctis must have felt like losing an integral part of himself.

 _Gods_ , she prayed, even though she wasn’t so sure anyone was listening. _Don’t let this be their undoing_.

“So…” Iris ventured, filling the silence. “Gladdy said you stayed in Insomnia for a while, after, well...you know…”

Valeria nodded. _I wasn’t like I had much of a choice_.

“A lot of my friends, um...” Iris went on. “I still haven’t been able to find out what happened to them. Do you think…?”

Valeria shook her head, perhaps too quickly, when she realized what Iris was asking. She didn’t want to recall the smiling faces in the photographs of the missing, the terrified, frozen faces in the photographs of the dead, though they were indelibly engraved upon her mind.

“People mostly kept to themselves,” Valeria offered by way of explanation. “Sorry.”

“Oh. Oh yeah, of course.” Iris gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there were, like, thousands of people anyway.”

 _Felix_. He was a couple of years younger than Iris, but the Academy wasn’t a large school; it was very possible that they’d known one another, that they’d maybe even been friends. How could she even begin to explain to Iris that he was probably dead or worse, all because Valeria was too afraid? Because the only thing she could do in the face of danger was run away. _You’re a coward_. Such a paltry explanation seemed particularly pitiful when facing one of the storied Amicitia bloodline.

Somewhat to Valeria’s surprise, Talcott began to clear the table, completely unprompted by Iris.

“All finished, ma’am?” he asked, reaching for Valeria’s plate.

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am,’” she replied automatically.

“Oh, okay. Miss…?” Talcott trailed off, apparently unsure of her last name.

“‘Miss Val’ is fine. And yes, I’m done.”

“Okay!” Talcott scooped up her dirty dishes, his tongue poking out slightly as he carefully made his way to the sink with his little arms full.

“Thanks, Talcott!” Iris rose from the table.

“I can do the dishes,” Valeria said. She could certainly use the distraction.

“Oh no,” Iris said, shaking her head. “You’re a guest! But thanks for offering. I always have to yell at Gladdy to do them.” After turning on the sink, she asked, “How did you and Ignis meet?”

“At the Academy,” Valeria replied. “On the first day. I realized I wasn’t going to be the only insufferable know-it-all in the class.” Even now, as worried as she was, the memory caused her to smile.

At first, she had regarded Ignis as more of a rival than a kindred spirit, but it soon became clear that he was the only person who knew what she was talking about when she went on about geometry, that she was the only one who got his (usually lame) wordplay jokes. In Ignis, she had found a mirror, someone struggling to reconcile their desire to be seen as mature with the realities of being fourteen, someone so desperate to please the adults around them that their true self was stunted, pushed to the side.

She didn’t have to do that anymore. She wanted to feel his hands on her face, hear his voice in her ear, feel the warmth of him at her side. She wanted to tell him all the things she had been so afraid to say out loud, the things she hadn’t even been able to admit to herself. _Come back, Iggy. Please come back to me_.

 

* * *

 

Galdin Quay. It was here, one sunny morning that felt like decades ago, where Ignis had received the news that had forever altered the course of his life. _Insomnia Falls_. He could still recall the size and typeface of the headline, those two words etched in ink that had changed everything.

And yet, it had only been the beginning. If Ignis had known what fate awaited him in Altissia, would he still have boarded that boat to the City on the Sea? _Yes_. The answer came to him without hesitation. _My place is by Noct’s side, no matter the cost_.

But his liege was gone, gone where Ignis could not possibly follow. Ignis realized that, for all his talk about negotiations, he had no idea what to say to these people. Oh, the proposal for the supply line was straight forward enough. But just who he was, and under what authority he had to decide such things - that was what he didn’t know, what he couldn’t answer if asked. He was a Crownsguard with no king, and advisor with no lord. An orphan, and a blind man, and a failure.

“Ignis.” He turned at the sound of Gladio’s voice, pushing the negative thoughts away. The truck creaked to a stop, the gearshift whining as Gladiolus put it in park.

“How’s it look?” Ignis asked. Even his ruined vision could tell Galdin was lit up like it was mid-day.

“No wonder they’re low on power,” Gladiolus muttered. “It’s making me damn eyes hurt. Uh, no offense.”

“Please,” Ignis scoffed. “None taken. What about fortifications?”

“Aside from the lights, they got nothing. I mean, we just drove right on up.”

“Hmm.” Ignis frowned. He recalled the layout of the resort well, and knew that a beach and pier weren’t exactly simple to fence in, but physical barriers would greatly reduce the number of lights they needed to keep the daemons at bay. This all seemed incredibly elementary to him, but he reminded himself that most of the people stuck here were probably wealthy vacationers, not survival experts.

When Ignis opened the door of the truck, he was assaulted with the overpowering smell of salt and fish on the sea breeze. The ground suddenly lurched beneath him, and he was standing on a crumbling dock with the screams of the Hydraean in his ears and the taste of saline filling his mouth. And all around him, he saw red. Red water, bodies covered in blood, magitek exhaust. Red flames consumed his vision, searing his face, his eyes…

“Whoa, whoa, Iggy.” Gladio had grabbed Ignis by the arm, the only thing keeping him on his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Ignis fumbled behind him with a trembling hand, feeling for the car seat. “I...I’m sorry,” he said as he slumped against it, clenching his fist. The sudden pain that had erupted in his face was extraordinary and nauseating.

“Huh?” Gladiolus still had him by the arm. “You sick or something?”

“I…” _It’s not real_ , Ignis told himself. _It’s all in the past_. But the smell of the ocean, the pall of moisture in the air, continuously triggered memories, memories that threatened to devour him.

“I’m fine,” he said, even as he felt his insides churning. “The smell of the ocean, it…” Ignis shook his head. “Don’t mind me.”

“Hey.” Gladiolus shook his shoulder, quite gently for a man of his strength. “It ain’t gonna happen again. I won’t let it.”

“I know that.” Ignis knew he wasn’t in danger, but memories - bad ones in particular - were pervasive, persistent things. With a frustrated sigh, he pushed his sunglasses up his forehead to press the heel of his hand into his throbbing, scarred left eye.

“You wanna wait here?” Gladio asked, releasing his arm.

“No,” Ignis insisted. “Just...give me a moment. If you please.”

“You got it, captain. Imma unload the truck.”

Ignis tried to focus on his breathing, concentrating on the feeling of the air passing in and out of his lungs. _It’s in the past_ , he reminded himself again. _Put it behind you_. His heart rate began to slow, but his face still ached, a phantom of the Imperial mortar that had blinded him and would probably haunt him for the rest of his days.

As Ignis began to get himself back under control, he could hear a crowd of people gathering close by, murmuring to one another about the new visitors in their midst. He straightened his collar, buttoned his jacket, and forced himself upright, feeling his way around to the back of the truck where Gladiolus was unloading their cargo.

“How many are there?” he asked Gladiolus quietly.

Gladio dropped something heavy on the ground, then replied, “Dunno. Maybe ten people. Nobody’s armed.”

“We’ve come from Lestallum with supplies,” Ignis announced, turning to address the crowd. “We heard your message on the radio. May I ask who’s in charge?”

A couple people stepped forward, but apparently only to look through the boxes Gladiolus had unloaded, supplies shuffling and clinking in their hands.

“Hey. Hold up,” Gladio said to them, but Ignis couldn’t tell if they heeded him or not.

“It’s our understanding that you’ve been able to catch a good quantity of fresh fish,” Ignis went on to no one in particular. “On behalf of Lestallum, we’d like to establish an on-going line of trade.”

“Who are you exactly?” Some man asked. _I don’t know_ , Ignis thought. _I honestly don’t know anymore_.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” Gladio replied, stopping his work to stand next to Ignis, probably with his arms crossed. “Shield of the King. And this here’s Ignis Scientia, King’s advisor.”

“What king?” Another voice asked. “Aren’t all the Caelums dead?”

“No,” Ignis replied. “King Regis is, alas, no longer with us - may his soul rest in peace. But Prince Noctis yet lives.”

Several voices from the crowd rang out at once:

“Why isn’t he doing anything?”

“Where is he? Lestallum?”

“Why isn’t he taking back Insomnia?”

Ignis held up a hand to hush the group. “His Majesty is....he is far away. Preparing for his destiny, to banish this darkness and bring back the light.”

He was well aware of how foolish this all sounded, like some child’s fairy tale, but Ignis didn’t want to lie to the people of Lucis. The Empire had spread so much misinformation that he thought they were owed the truth, however fantastic it sounded.

The crowd at Galdin Quay seemed to divide at this news: a smaller portion exclaimed joy, relief, _hope_ that someone had finally come along and offered them an end to this nightmare; but the majority were incredulous, dismissing Ignis’s explanation as nonsense, demanding proof of such a claim.

Ignis felt Gladio’s weight shift, felt the tell-tale thrumming of magic on his skin as Gladiolus summoned his weapon. The ground beneath his feet shook as Gladiolus drove his greatsword into the sand.

“How’s that for proof?” Gladio growled, his patience already growing thin.

“Calm yourself, Gladio,” Ignis whispered.

“They’re not lying.” A set of footsteps approached the group, and Ignis nearly groaned at the voice they belonged to. Dino. He’d recognize that ridiculous, put-on accent anywhere. _Of all the people to defend us, it had to be him_.

“That’s Prince Noctis’s Crownsguard, alright,” Dino said. _And yet, that didn’t stop you from coercing us into running your bloody errands_ , Ignis thought with a frown. “They say the Prince is still alive, then you gotta believe ‘em.”

“Don’t tell me you’re the leader of this group,” Ignis said to Dino, unable to stop himself.

“Nah,” Dino said, sauntering up to the pair of them. “Don’t really got a _leader_ around here, per se.”

 _A bloody democracy_ , Ignis lamented. That was fine in times of peace, but in a crisis, in danger, people needed a singular, decisive voice to call them to action.

“Holy hell,” Dino exclaimed. “What happened to you?” Ignis knew he wasn’t talking to Gladiolus about the new scar on his forehead.

“Back off,” Gladio growled.

“The Empire happened to me,” Ignis said, trying not to clench his teeth. First it had been Aranea Highwind, then the Marshal, Iris and Talcott, the Hunters...he was getting damned tired of constantly having to explain one of the worst days of his life.

“Damn,” Dino went on, unperturbed. “They got you pretty good, huh?”

“Ah, Dino.” Ignis just barely managed to keep himself from snarling. “Ever the beacon of compassion in troubled times.”

“What? I’m just say-”

“Whether you believe us about the King or not is, I suppose, irrelevant to the purpose of this visit.” Ignis raised his voice to address the crowd once more, cutting Dino off entirely. “We’ve brought the supplies you asked for.” He gestured in what he hoped was the vicinity of the boxes. “We can continue to provide you with such things, in exchange for part of what you catch.”

“How much fish we talkin’ here?” Dino asked. _Why did it have to be him_?

“Nothing unreasonable,” Ignis replied. “We’re not asking any of you to starve. How much would you say you catch in, perhaps,  a two-week interval?”

“Ehh…” Dino trailed off, and Ignis was forced to assume he shrugged. “The fisherman could tell ya, but they’re all out on the water right now.”

“It’s more than we need,” a woman, her voice familiar, spoke up. It must have been Coctura, the chef; she was the only woman they had spoken to at any length when they were here last. “I’ve been pickling what we can’t eat so it wouldn’t spoil.”

“And how much is that?” Ignis asked.

“Maybe enough to fill up the back of your truck in a month,” Coctura replied. “Maybe a little less. I don’t want to speak for the fishermen, but I’m sure if they were better equipped with lights they could catch more.”

Ignis nodded. That wasn’t anywhere near enough to feed the bloated population of Lestallum, but it was something - a start, and more than they had coming into the city now.

“Then if we sent you a truck full of power supplies once a month, you could presumably fill it with preserved fish in return?”

“That’s what the lady’s saying,” Dino said.

“And, is this acceptable to the rest of you?” Ignis asked the crowd, since it was apparently a bloody democracy. A few people mumbled some things to one another, but no one spoke up to voice any dissent. Of course, they weren’t in a position where they had much ground to argue; the moment their lights went out, it didn’t matter how well-fed they were - they were all dead.

 

* * *

 

Ignis was exhausted. He leaned against the inside of the truck door, closing his right eye, but found himself unable to doze off. After they’d filled the truck with the preserved fish Coctura mentioned, he’d only managed a few hours of sleep in the camper back at Galdin Quay, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles while Gladiolus snored.

“Can you drive faster?” He asked Gladiolus now.

There was a pause, and then Gladiolus snorted. “Seriously?”

“Nothing unsafe,” Ignis clarified. “I’m just...anxious to return.”

Gladiolus chuckled, and Ignis felt the truck accelerate, heard the engine crank and whir at the added strain.

“I said nothing unsafe,” Ignis repeated.

“Eighty ain’t unsafe,” Gladio replied. “Not when the roads are this empty.”

“Have you seen many daemons?” Ignis asked. It was difficult to hear anything in the distance over the engine noise.

“They’re out there,” Gladiolus said with a grunt. “Everywhere. Keeping their distance from the road.”

“Hmm.” Ignis touched the flashlight in his jacket pocket, idly toying the handle as he thought. “I wonder if they’re learning.”

“How do you mean?”

“Between headlights and the force of a speeding vehicle, the highway is a hazardous place for daemons. If they’re keeping their distance now, that seems to suggest a certain degree of...advancement.”

Gladio groaned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Nor do I,” Ignis said with a frown.

Daemons had long been regarded as dangerous, but stupid, singular-minded in their quest for destruction. But this darkness was _their_ world now, and Ignis had witness first-hand the vestiges of humanity that the terrible creatures still retained, even clung to. Though frightening, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that some of them maintained the adaptability, the capacity for logic and plans, that was uniquely human.

Suddenly, Ignis heard a scream, simultaneous with Gladio shouting a curse and the screeching of the truck’s brakes. He stuck his hands out just in time to prevent his face from slamming into the dashboard.

“Oh Gods, please! Help me! Help me!” A woman was shrieking in front of the truck, pounding on the hood. “They have my baby!” She wailed. “Please help me!”

Though Ignis wasn’t entirely clear on what had just happened, he immediately nodded toward Gladio. “Go,” he said. “I’ll mind the truck.”

Gladiolus had the car in park and was out the door before Ignis had unbuckled his seatbelt. He could hear the woman continue to scream and plead even as their footsteps receded.

Ignis reached over and felt around for the keys to turn off the engine; he didn’t want to waste gasoline, and he couldn’t hear anything over the bloody noise. Leaving the keys in the ignition in case they needed to make a hasty exit, he slid out of the passenger-side door, his ears and nose straining to discern any sign of the daemons in the darkness. A listless breeze ruffled his jacket and hair as Ignis switched on the light attached to his belt with one hand, and hefted the flashlight Valeria had given him with the other, electing to leave his cane behind in the truck - he wasn’t going anywhere, so he didn’t need it.

The woman had stopped her wailing and, just on the very edge of his hearing, Ignis thought he could make out voices, low and hushed, their words lost to the distance. What he couldn’t hear, he realized, was the crying of a baby - and any infant ripped away from its mother would have absolutely been screaming its little lungs out. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms began to rise as his stomach plummeted to his feet. _This isn’t right_ …

Immediately, Ignis summoned a dagger to his free hand. He gripped the hilt and gritted his teeth. Behind him, perhaps twenty or thirty feet away from the bed of the truck, he heard the soft sound of dead grass crunching underfoot. Whoever, whatever was approaching was cautious, taking care to conceal their footsteps. Gladiolus wouldn’t sneak up on him, and the daemons may have been learning, but they weren’t _this_ smart.

The breeze shifted and an all-too-familiar scent filled his nose - not the sulphur stink of daemons, nor the rotting stink of a carnivorous animal’s breath. It was filth - human filth, sweat and dirt and malice.

And then everything clicked in place. It was exactly as Valeria had warned him, that the people out here were colder and crueler than any animal. It was a trap. The woman lured the driver away, while this person, or multiple people, made off with the truck and their supplies.

Ignis should have been afraid, but he wasn’t. Anger welled within him, rage red-hot and raw like he hadn’t felt since Insomnia fell. To take advantage of others’ good intentions...there were very few things lower than that.

The footsteps grew closer and Ignis was certain it was two people, adults, likely both men. “You get one warning,” Ignis intoned, even though they didn’t deserve it.

“Just back off and give us the keys,” came the reply. The voice sounded like a young man doing his best to sound menacing. “We don’t have to hurt you.”

Ignis inhaled deeply, every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation. He switched off the flashlight and the light on his belt, extinguishing the only illumination he was aware of in the vicinity.

“You won’t,” he replied, the calm in his voice serving as a harsh contrast to the anger rolling beneath the surface. _Only a fool would try to fight a blind man in the dark_.

And they were a pair of fools. One charged at him with a snarl. Ignis dodged, sliding along the body of the truck. There was a clang and a cry as the man’s fist collided with the vehicle’s door. Ignis felt the vibration through his back, his mind immediately working out the man’s relative position and height.

Before his assailant could move away, Ignis reversed his grip on the flashlight, smashing the butt of it into the man’s face. It took him in the jaw, not the nose as Ignis had anticipated, but the man still recoiled in pain, the smell of blood suddenly filling the air.

“Shi-” The man blubbered through his damaged lips; distantly, Ignis wondered if he’d broken any teeth.

“Lee! Where the hell are you? Are you hurt?” the second man cried out. The man called Lee sputtered and groaned in response.

A pair of hands - that must have belonged to the other man - grasped Ignis’s right arm, then tried to push him sideways. Rather than resist it, Ignis rolled with the force, popping back up on his feet alongside the truck’s front tire.

“I-I’ve got a knife!” the unnamed man cried. Ignis could hear the blade - small, probably not much larger than a pocket knife - slicing wildly through the air.

Ignis pivoted away from the truck, wanting to keep the sharp instruments far away from the vehicle. “As do I,” Ignis said. _I did warn you_.

In front of him, Lee screamed. “Where are you? Where are you, you son of a bitch?” Ignis sensed the wild punch coming a second too late, and it connected with his ribs. He grunted as pain bloomed in his side, but stood his ground, knowing the next blow was imminent. Ignis allowed Lee to grab him by the collar, pulling them close together, Lee’s sour breath spewing in his face. Ignis plunged his dagger into Lee’s gut.

“Wha…?” The startled reply was all that came from Lee before he started screaming in pain.

Blood, warm and sticky, soaked Ignis’s glove, seeping between his fingers. He thrust the dagger into the man again, higher this time, and Lee’s screams turned into a wet gurgle, his body going limp in Ignis’s arms. Ignis pulled his blade from the man’s flesh, allowing him to collapse on the ground. Fighting to maim was a luxury a blind man couldn’t afford. And besides, out here, anything worse than a scratch was likely a death sentence anyway.

“Lee? _Lee_!” His companion was now screaming.

Ignis took a cautious step backwards from Lee, who remained on the ground, moaning pitifully. As he moved, he felt the air shift off to his left, felt the man’s knife slice through the outer layer of his suit jacket. He spun on his heel, bringing up the flashlight in a defensive stance, dismissing the dagger from his other hand. When the man’s blade struck the head of the flashlight, Ignis seized upon the second of confusion, grabbing the man’s wrist with his free hand and twisting until he released the weapon. _Now I’ve got you_.

“What did you do to - _ahh!_ ” The man’s words were cut off into a yelp as Ignis twisted his arm in a way Gladiolus had once shown him, that forced the man to turn and bend, lest his elbow be wrenched from the socket.

Without letting go of the man’s wrist, Ignis swung hard with the flashlight, bashing the man on the side of the head. He made a startled gasp and Ignis felt him swaying, but he didn’t go down.

So Ignis hit him again. He hit him again and again, allowing his anger to get the better of him, until the man was crumpled on the ground alongside his friend, twitching.

 _It’s over_ , he realized. His breath was coming in heaving gasps, the place where he’d been punched throbbed, and the muscles in his arm felt like gelatin. But it was over, and he was fine. He hadn’t broken his promise to Valeria to return to her.

As Ignis wiped the bits of blood and hair (and probably other things he didn’t particularly want to think about) from the flashlight, he felt something touching the toe of his shoe, then weakly grasping at it.

“H-help me,” the first man, Lee, croaked, his voice unable to rise past a whisper. “I don’t...want to d-d-die out here.”

 _Too late for that_ , Ignis thought coldly. A clamor behind him caused Ignis to jump and whirl, dagger already summoned back to his grasp by the time his feet hit the ground.

“Iggy, it’s me!” Gladiolus shouted. “It was a-”

“Trap,” Ignis finished for him. He palmed the switch of the flashlight, and to his shock, it actually powered on.

“...Damn,” was all Gladio said when the undoubtedly grisly scene was illuminated for him.

“They were after the supplies,” Ignis explained. “Despicable.”

“Yeah, that woman had a buddy waiting for me. I knocked ‘em both out cold. Must be some kinda operation they’re running here, or were, since these two are…”

“Let’s go,” Ignis said. He didn’t regret what he’d just done, but he didn’t particularly want to dwell on it either. He followed Gladiolus back to the truck and they both piled in, leaving the two men to die on the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that I kind of made myself feel sorry for the dudes at the end of this chapter? They definitely deserved to get their asses kicked, but being left to die on the side of the road is pretty rough...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m FINALLY back to working on Solstice! I’m really, really sorry for the long hiatus - I always tend to stall out around the 50k word mark, and just needed a break to recharge a bit. Thanks for sticking with me!

Valeria woke the next morning with a start, blinking bleary, heavy eyes at the unfamiliar surroundings. She wasn’t home - home, Insomnia, was gone. It wasn’t the abandoned country house of some stranger where she’d sought temporary refuge from the daemons; the daemons were still out there, but they couldn’t be close, not with all the light pooling beneath the door and the soft sounds of a child’s voice filling the hallway. She remembered, with a heavy heart, that she wasn’t in Ignis’s tiny apartment either; he had gone back out on the road to chase his wounded pride, gone and left her with Gladiolus Amicitia’s sister and the boy, Talcott, grandson of the Amicitia family’s butler.

Valeria couldn’t quite bring herself to resent Ignis for leaving her, but it still hurt, and it took her back to a time when she was ten years old, watching her father’s motorcycle take off down a quiet city street. He’d come back - once in awhile, whenever it suited him, not nearly often enough to fill the void he’d left behind.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, exiting the bedroom (Iris had slept in her brother’s room, allowing Valeria to use her bed while she stayed) and made her way to the bathroom with a deep yawn. As usual, she hadn’t slept much, and what rest she did have was plagued by nightmares of daemons and Magitek and Ignis screaming as he was torn apart.

Talcott was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a piece of dry toast with a small glass of orange juice that looked like it had been significantly watered down.

“Good morning!” Iris chirped. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Valeria shook her head and slumped down at the table, envying how well-rested and just plain optimistic the younger girl seemed. _Ignorance, as they all say, is bliss_. Talcott was rehearsing some kind of history report, and Valeria could only offer a wan nod when he turned to look at her, having only heard about a third of it.

“I think that’s an A plus, Talcott,” Iris said.

“Really?” They boy’s large, blue eyes were wide, eager.

“Seriously. I didn’t even know half of that stuff.” Iris handed him a metal lunchbox with a chocobo on the front of it. “Did you?”

“Oh, I...” Valeria shook her head. What had he been talking about? Something about the Caelum dynasty? “I’m more of a math person,” she offered, trying to disguise the fact that she hadn’t been paying attention.

“I hate math,” Talcott grumbled as he pulled on his backpack. “But Grandpa said I have to get good grades in everything, not just the stuff I like.”

“Yep,” Iris said, walking him to the door. “Have a good day at school!” she said with a wave, shutting the door behind him.

Valeria regarded Iris for a moment - still in her pajamas and slippers as she lazily scrubbed at a dish in the sink.

“Aren’t you going to school?” Valeria asked.

Iris looked up for a moment, then seemed to purposely put her head down. “No.”

Valeria didn’t know Gladiolus all that well, but from Iris’s reaction, she was almost certain this was an argument the Amicitia siblings had - probably more than once.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it’s pointless,” Iris snapped, her cheerful demeanor giving way to something far more forceful. “How is learning, like, geometry going to help save anybody stuck out there?” She pointed toward the apartment’s window. “I want to _help_ people, not....sit around.”

“There are plenty of ways to help people that don’t involve fighting.” They weren’t always glamorous, especially to a teenager, but that didn’t make them less valid.

Iris looked her in the eye. “I’m an _Amicitia_ ,” she said, both pride and expectation in her voice. “We fight. It’s what we do.” What had she called it? A family curse? Perhaps it wasn’t just the men who were affected by the weight of that family name.

Valeria merely shrugged. If her brother hadn’t been able to talk Iris out of it, there was no way a woman she’d only just met was going to.

“They say this isn’t going to last forever,” was all Valeria said on the matter. “Things will go back to how they used to be.” Mostly. Maybe.

“Whatever,” Iris replied, putting the dishes away. “I’ll fight then too. When Noct comes back...” Her voice trailed off, her eyes glazed over with a longing sadness Valeria immediately recognized, recognized because she had seen it in herself. _She loves him_ , Valeria thought. _She loves the Prince_.

“He’ll come back,” Valeria offered with a smile. _He’ll come back, just like Ignis will come back, like he promised_.

Sometime well after the city chimes sounded that it was past noon, the door to the suite abruptly flew open, a bulky, tattooed man filling the entire doorway.

“Gladdy!” Iris shrieked, bounding off the couch and into her big brother’s arms.

Valeria pushed past them, her heart in her throat. _Ignis. Where’s Ignis_?

He was there, standing in the hallway behind Gladiolus, looking rumpled and tattered and alive and well. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Iggy,” she whispered, then threw herself into his arms with a pathetic whimper. “You came back. You came back to me.”

“I told you I would,” he replied, squeezing her tight. _If only we could stay like this forever_ , Valeria thought, burying her face into his shoulder. But she became acutely aware of the eyes of the Amicitia siblings on them, and turned to see them both beaming at her and Ignis with knowing smiles.

Valeria felt her cheeks burning crimson as she quickly broke the embrace, her eyes fixed on the grubby tiled floor. _Romance is a waste of time_ , her mother chided in her head. _It’s not like that_. The lie came to Valeria automatically; she’d programmed herself into believing her own bullshit. But she didn’t have to lie anymore, to anyone.

“Iris, forgive me for rushing off,” Ignis said. “But I’m afraid I’m simply exhausted.”

“Of course,” Iris said. “I’m just glad you guys are back safe and sound.”

Valeria thanked Iris for allowing her to stay, then led Ignis down the stairs and out of the Leville. Relief was crashing over her in waves, so violently that she stumbled as her knees grew weak.

“What’s wrong?” Ignis asked, his strong grip on her arm keeping her upright.

“Nothing.” Valeria turned to smile at him, the man she held above all others. The man she loved. _You came back_. “Nothing at all.”

 

* * *

 

After taking a shower and a long, peaceful nap, Ignis stood over the worn clothes he’d laid out on the bed, running his fingers over the stiff spots that signaled the presence of dried blood. More than just his gloves had been stained; there was spatter across the front of his shirt and sleeves of his jacket.

Fortunately, Ignis knew a simple solution for that; they’d slain enough beasts on the road that he’d had plenty of opportunities to field test a remedy. He grabbed a can of salt from the kitchen and carried his soiled things into the bathroom, asking Valeria if she needed the sink before proceeding to fill up the basin.

“No,” she replied, following him in - or half-in - the tiny room. The gentle touch of her hand on his back, the feeling of her body pressed close against his side, made his pulse quicken in such a way that he once would have lamented his body betraying him. But now, it just felt like he’d always known it, in his bones and in his heart, what his head had stubbornly attempted to deny all along. Even so, he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. There were so many things that frightened him, not the least of which were all the ways he’d been altered in the past few months.

“What are you doing?” Valeria asked, curious, as he dumped a generous amount of salt into the cold water in the sink. “Oh,” she said as he opened his mouth to reply, undoubtedly noticing the blood on the clothing he’d piled atop the lid of toilet.

“It’s best to soak the stains in salt water for a few hours, before laundering,” Ignis explained as he stirred the water with his hand, letting the salt dissolve.

“Really?” she asked.

“It’s worked in the past.” Ignis pressed a wet finger to his lips, testing the saline levels, before tossing in a bit more.

“Did you have bloody clothes often?” Valeria asked, her tone probing.

“It was animal blood,” he replied, fully aware of what she was getting at. Ignis hoped that, in time, he’d be able to forget the pathetic way the dying man had clutched at him, pleading for his life.

“It’s not animal this time?”

“No.” Ignis turned to grab his clothes, plunging first his gloves, then his shirt into the sink. Valeria stopped him with a touch on his arm before he could add the jacket.

“Wait a minute.” He heard her walk across the apartment and then return, taking the jacket from his hands. “Let me see if I can put this on a hanger, so you don’t have to put the whole thing in the sink. It’s silk isn’t it?” Ignis nodded. “I bet if I can hang it on the mirror, the stained parts will reach...Ah, perfect.”

“Good thinking,” Ignis said, quietly grateful for her narration of exactly what she was doing. He was growing accustomed to filling in the gaps of what was going on around him with suppositions and imagination, but it was frustrating, particularly for someone as analytical as himself, to have to rely on such an incomplete picture much of the time.

The clothes would need to soak for several hours; there was no reason for them to stay in the cramped bathroom, but they both remained where they stood, her chest pressed into the side of his arm.

“Are you hurt?” Valeria asked him quietly.

“It’s not my blood,” Ignis said. “What you said about the people out there - you were right.” Valeria said nothing, but slipped her hand into his. “Aren’t you going to gloat?” he asked, trying - and not really succeeding - to lighten the suddenly dark mood.

“Not about this,” she said. “I didn’t want to be right about this. They attacked you?”

“And tried to abscond with our supplies.” _To think that common bandits would plague Lucis’s highways in this day and age_... As he’d said, Valeria had been right, been right about everything. People were frightened and hungry and _cruel_.

“Did you kill them?” Her voice was quiet, flat, unreadable.

Ignis swallowed. “Yes.” He half-expected her to push him away in disgust, but she squeezed his hand.

“Have you killed anyone before?”

“Imperial soldiers.” Most of them had been Magitek, but some were flesh and blood, just like him. “These weren’t soldiers. I doubt they were even as old as we are.”

“You did what you had to do, Iggy.” Valeria rested her head on his shoulder. “They would have just kept hurting people.”

Ignis stood there, taking comfort in her words and her presence, until he realized exactly what she’d said.

“So did you,” he said.

“What?”

“You did what you had to. Whatever it was that happened to you out there, you don’t have to be ashamed.” He heard her inhale sharply, felt her grip falter on his hand.

“I...Iggy...”

Ignis shook his head, chiding himself for speaking so carelessly. “I wasn’t trying to conjure bad memories.” He slid a comforting arm around her back. “Would you allow me to take you out for dinner?”

Valeria let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Ignis grinned. “I happen to know of at least one restaurant in Lestallum that still exists - after a fashion. If you’d like-”

“Of course I would,” Valeria replied, her mood audibly brighter. “Just let me change my clothes.”

 

* * *

 

They walked past the market, to a street corner Valeria must have passed a dozen times, only now noticing the half-lit sign that said ‘ _Cafe_ ’ (or ‘ _AF_ ’ if one was going by the letters that were still illuminated).

“Oh,” Valeria said, peering in the narrow windows. “It’s really crowded.”

Ignis shook his head. “I doubt most of them are patrons.” As Valeria pushed the door open, a bell dinging softly overhead, Ignis quietly added, “The owner has far too big a heart.”

The owner in question, a heavyset man of about thirty or so, looked up from the counter, a broad, excited smile immediately lighting up his face.

“Scientia!” he boomed, making his way toward the pair. Ignis stuck out his hand and the man shook it vigorously.

“My friend, Valeria.” Valeria was surprised when the man gave her the same vigorous handshake, threatening to wrench her shoulder from its socket. “Valeria, this is James, the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

“‘ _Fine_ ,’ he says.” James let out a hearty laugh. “You’d be singing a different tune if your eyeballs worked, my friend.”

Valeria recoiled at the glib way the man spoke of Ignis’s blindness, but Ignis merely chuckled.

“The cuisine is quite fine,” Ignis said. “That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to forgive the ambiance,” James said to Valeria, shooing away a group of people loitering near a small table in the corner. “Move it,” he barked at them, although not entirely unkindly. “And don’t bother the paying customers.”

A few of the people regarded Valeria curiously, undoubtedly wondering just what sort of person went on a dinner date at a time like this. _A date_... The realization made her blush as she followed James to their table, but that’s exactly what it was. She was tired of lying to herself about these things.

“Here you are,” James announced with a sweeping gesture toward the table. “Give me just a moment.”

As he dashed back off toward the counter, Valeria took Ignis’s hand from her elbow and placed it on the nearest chair back; rather than take the seat, he pulled the chair out and motioned for her to sit, pushing it back in after she was settled. Valeria rolled her eyes, although she was hardly annoyed; _you damned, chivalric fool_ , she thought as he felt his way around to the chair at the other side of the table. But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

James quickly returned, spreading a blue and white checkered tablecloth across the tabletop and setting out napkins and silverware. He even placed a small, dented lantern in the center of the table, lighting the votive within with a match.

“Can’t leave this stuff out,” he explained. “I swear, they’ll pocket anything that isn’t nailed down.”

“But you let them in?” Valeria asked, scanning the crowd. They had the same tattered, defeated air that she’d had when she first entered the city.

“It’s the damned kids,” James said, then slapped his forehead. “Pardon my language. But I’m a real sucker for kids. Anyway...” he spread his hands in a welcoming gesture, “I’m afraid I can’t really host a menu, _per se_ , not with the way the food deliveries have been, but I do have a nice cut of behemoth steak a Hunter dropped off yesterday.”

 _Steak_? Valeria felt her jaw drop open even as her mouth began to water.

“That’ll be fine, James,” Ignis said, removing his gloves and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

“More than fine,” Valeria said.

“Excellent! I’ll get that started and bring you something to drink.”

Valeria turned to Ignis as James left, a smile spreading across her face. Steak, a restaurant, a date...and most of all, Ignis. _Ignis came back_.

“What?” he asked, his expression bemused.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“It seems as though you want to.”

“I...” Valeria tried to think of some eloquent way to dance around the subject, like they always did, before stopping herself. _No more of that_. “I’m just happy,” she said honestly.

A flush crept up the sides of Ignis’s neck, his ears. “I’m happy to hear it.”

“Is that bad?” Valeria looked around all the people crowded into the other corners of the restaurant, people who weren’t about to dine on steak, who had probably lost the men and women they loved.

“No.” Ignis shook his head emphatically. “Don’t feel guilty for being happy. Don’t ever feel guilty for that.”

Valeria felt something swell inside of her and had to look down, avert her eyes, busy her fingers with picking some lint off the tablecloth, lest she get all emotional in public.

“Iggy,” she ventured, still not able to look at him directly. He was too bright. “Have you been here before?”

“Well, I...” His eyebrows knitted together. “Obviously.”

“No, I mean _before_...” Valeria let that trail off, hoping he’d catch her meaning. Even if Ignis didn’t mind others cracking jokes about his blindness, she still felt hesitant to bring it up.

“Ah. No. Noct’s preferences leaned more toward the greasy spoon.”

“Oh, right.” _Of course they did_. “I could, um...describe it to you. If you’d like.”

The smile that played across Ignis’s lips was small, cryptic. “I would,” he said quietly.

Valeria looked around the small restaurant, suddenly wishing she had more of a way with words. She had asked, and yet she was uncertain where to begin.

“It’s not a big place.” She decided to start broadly and narrow down to the details. “There are maybe ten or fifteen tables, mostly for two.” Valeria wondered if, in the past, it had been filled with young couples, like herself and Ignis, shyly regarding one another over the golden light of a small lantern.

“The walls are exposed brick,” she went on. “Red. But there are patches where the bricks have faded pink from the sun. The floors are scuffed too. You know,” Valeria leaned with her elbow on the table, even though her mother would have snapped at her for that. “This whole town is kind of like that. Everything in Insomnia was so... _slick_ . Perfect. The signs of wear here, I guess it should feel shabby, but I don’t know... I think it’s kind of quaint.” _Romantic_ , she thought. _It’s all terribly romantic_. Or maybe that was just her present company.

“I always thought Lestallum was a charming town,” Ignis said, nodding. “Perhaps, because it is so unlike the Crown City and what we are accustomed to.”

He was right. Valeria wouldn’t want to live here forever, but it wasn’t the first time that she’d thought if things hadn’t been so dark and crowded and miserable, it would have been romantic. _Romantic_. She pushed away how that word made her blush, every time, and continued to describe the restaurant’s layout and decor to Ignis. She’d just gotten to the tablecloth when they were interrupted by James, setting down two glasses of water.

“Red wine’s the only real way to enjoy a steak, I know,” he said. “But water’s all I got.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Ignis said.

Valeria turned to the restaurant owner. “If you don’t mind me asking, why bother to stay open?”

“You have any idea how hard it is to get a permit?” James asked the question like it was meant to be rhetorical, but when Valeria shrugged and stared at him blankly, he explained. “Figured you were a Crown City type. It’s tough to get a business off the ground here, unless you’ve got a connection to someone up in the Ivory Tower. And it’s even tougher when that business is male-owned, like this ‘fine establishment.’”

“Oh,” was all Valeria could say.

“I’ve always wanted my own place,” James went on. “Ever since I learned how to cook. Now, Scientia here tells me this catastrophe isn’t going to last forever. Even if it means hemorrhaging money and giving out more handouts than serving paying customers, well...that’s just what I’ll have to do.”

“I did say the Darkness might last quite a while,” Ignis added.

“Then I got quite a while of feeding freeloaders. Hell, maybe once all of this is said and done, some of ‘em will remember and come back as paying customers. Or even,” James’ eyes took on a faraway gleam, “ _investors_. Ha!” James clapped Ignis on the shoulder. “Keep dreaming, right?”

“So that’s why all these people are here,” Valeria said, glancing at the listless crowd. “You cook for them.”

James seemed to shrug off the implication that he was running some kind of charity. “Can’t rightly throw food away when it’s about to spoil, not with so many hungry people in the city. But don’t worry - the steaks are fresh. I wouldn’t try to pawn off anything that wasn’t fresh onto my paying customers. Plus, Scientia would definitely call me out on that, wouldn’t you, friend?”

“Well, I-”

Before Ignis could properly respond, James went on. “First time he came in here, he had a twenty minute conversation with me about spices, and I thought, ‘Damn, James, you better step up your game.’ Speaking of, I better check on your supper.”

“That conversation was mostly one-sided, I assure you,” Ignis said after James had left.

Valeria snorted a laugh. “I believe it.”

“He might be overly loquacious, but he’s an excellent chef.”

“And a good person.” Valeria once again regarded the others, now shunted to the opposite side of the small restaurant. “I wonder what other businesses do with things once they go bad...” Convincing business owners to give away _all_ their products to the starving might be a tall order, but surely they’d be willing to part with things that were on the cusp of becoming garbage.

Ignis cocked his head with a small smile. “I sense the gears are turning.”

“You can read my mind now?” Valeria asked playfully.

“After a fashion. Experience tells me that when your voice trails off like that, you’re usually hatching some sort of scheme.”

“‘Scheme’ sounds so nefarious,” Valeria said.

Ignis arched an eyebrow. “Yes. And?”

Valeria made a sound of mock outrage. “Iggy!” She gave him a playful swat on the wrist, but Ignis grabbed her hand, gripped it firmly, his expression suddenly serious.

“I’m not going to go back out there again. Not if it isn’t alright with you. The last thing I want is to cause you harm.”

“Iggy...” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble. This man, this beautiful, wonderful man - what had she done to deserve him? “Your duty, I understand,” she babbled. He cut her off with the tight squeeze of his hand.

“Noct is _gone_. Gone where I cannot follow, and putting myself in harm’s way will not hasten his return. It’s been a struggle, but I...I think I’m beginning to accept that.”

“I’m sorry,” Valeria mumbled.

“As am I. My duty is to the King and the people of Lucis - and there are plenty of people right here that I can help.”

 _How very gallant_. Valeria liked to tease him about that, but at the moment, she thought the man sitting across from her, holding her hand, was the very portrait of bravery and honor.    

“Tell me,” Ignis went on, his expression softening. “Will you be terribly cross if I give my dinner away to someone here who truly needs it?”

Valeria grinned. “Not at all. But I think James is going to be disappointed.”

Admittedly, she was looking forward to steak, but she followed his example, and the two of them ended up hand-in-hand in the market, sharing a bag of popcorn for dinner.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to heat up the romance a bit!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While working on this chapter, I must've told my beta reader at least 4 times that "I only have about 500 words left." And that's how you end up with nearly 5k word chapters, I guess.

As Ignis had suspected, the conversation with James at his restaurant had ignited a spark in Valeria, and she’d set about fulfilling EXINERIS’s impossible task with the tireless, stubborn determination that reminded him so much of the past and the simple lives they used to lead. He knew the tragedies that had since befallen them had affected her deeply, but it was good to see that they hadn’t managed to dim her spirit entirely.

While Valeria went around the market making inquiries as to what the various merchants did with supplies that outlived their shelf date, Ignis returned to Hunter headquarters to propose the plan the two of them had concocted to the Marshal.

“You want the Hunters-in-training to go collect anything these people are willing to give up?” Cor asked.

Ignis nodded. “It’s hardly glamorous work, but an important task nonetheless.”

The Marshal scoffed. “I’m not worried about what they think of the job. If they’re not willing to follow orders, they’re of no use to me.”

Ignis nodded. The Marshal was running new Hunter training like it was a military operation - completely understandable, given Cor’s background, but not entirely congruent with the aspiration of most of his recruits. Some of them just wanted to help in whatever way they were needed, but the majority wanted to kill daemons - and for wholly personal reasons. They’d lost their homes, friends and family, been corralled into Lestallum like cattle; Ignis could hardly begrudge them their vendetta in such cases, but killing daemons wasn’t going to put food on anyone’s table, nor give them a warm, clean place to sleep.

“Then what?” The Marshal asked.

“Hmm?” Ignis cocked his head.

“What are you going to do with the supplies we’ve rounded up?”

“We need a distribution center,” Ignis said. “Preferably one more central than this high school. Any thoughts?”

“Hmm...” Cor’s clothes rustled as he shifted his weight. “There aren’t exactly places for rent anymore.”

“I know,” Ignis replied. “And it would require enough space for people to queue.”

“And you’re going to go by what? The honor system?”

“Goodness, no.” Ignis had certainly learned his lesson about trusting the good intentions of strangers during these difficult times. “We shall implement a voucher system.” Valeria admitted she had gotten the idea from the Imperial occupation of Insomnia; regardless of its origins, Ignis thought it was a sound one.

“Fine.” It was probably the closest the Marshal would come to giving praise, and it warmed Ignis to hear it. “I’ll send out a few people to scout for locations. Unless you think Miss Soleil can convince EXINERIS to donate their Ivory Tower to the cause.”

Ignis barked a laugh. “They certainly have the space. But, alas, I believe we are trying their patience as it is.”

The Marshal let out an uncharacteristic grumble before rising to his feet. “I sent Gladio and Diana to clear out the local farms, to see if we can’t get some solar lights out there and get them running again.”

Ignis nodded. “That, combined with our monthly fish supply from Galdin, may be enough to keep the people within the city fed, if we ration carefully. But what about the refugees without?”

Cor let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know. But we need to do something about it. I hate to agree with EXINERIS, but they’re right that the city can’t hold any more people.”

They were. Perhaps segregating people based upon nationality was not the best way to determine the haves and have-nots, but no one could deny that Lestallum was already full to bursting.

When the Marshal ventured no more conjecture, Ignis sighed. “Another thing you’d like me to puzzle out?”

“Not just you,” Cor clarified. “But, yeah. Let me know if you get any bright ideas.”

After the Marshal left to coordinate the Hunters, Ignis wandered the upper floor of the school, trying to familiarize himself with the parts of the building he was less accustomed to. Most of the rooms were formerly classrooms, now converted into barracks for Hunters and trainees with nowhere else to go. He heard snoring and squabbling over the outcome of a card game as he passed, his fingers trailing the wall on his left. There were thirty steps from the stairwell to the end of the hallway; Ignis turned around and made his way back.

If anyone was concerned about the blind man being lost, they didn’t come to his aid. Ignis knew some of the elder Hunters liked to use his injuries to dissuade overager, reckless recruits; even though he was blinded by the Empire and not daemons, he allowed the lie to circulate - if it made someone think twice before rushing into danger ill-prepared, if it saved lives, then he didn’t mind being the subject of a cautionary tale.

As Ignis made his way back down the stairs, he contemplated his discussion with the Marshal. The Imperial refugees needed to be relocated, but where? If only Ignis could still read a bloody map. He knew the general geography of Lucis by heart, the locations of its major cities and landmarks, but the smaller outposts, roads and streams, were unclear.

He couldn’t see these things anymore, but Valeria could. Ignis returned to the Marshal’s office and had Monica mark the latest intelligence down onto a copy of a map of the region, which Ignis folded and tucked into his jacket pocket.

As he exited the room, a set of light, plucky footsteps approached. _Iris_ , he thought, but he didn’t say anything. Several other teenage hunters-in-training sounded remarkably similar, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“Hey, Ignis.” So, he was right. _You have to retrain your instincts_. _And then trust them_. Cor’s advice didn’t just apply on the battlefield.

“Hello, Iris.”

She leaned against the wall next to him with sigh. “I hate to bother you, but I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Iris, you’re hardly a bother. Ask away.”

“Would you mind watching Talcott for the night? I’m supposed to be on the wall tonight for training, and Gladdy was supposed to be back this morning, but he’s not.” Her voice sounded annoyed, but Ignis noted the sound of her foot tapping against the floor anxiously.

“No problem,” he said, flashing a smile in her direction. “Send him to my place after school.”

“Oh, good.” Iris gave him a small squeeze on the shoulder. “Thank you so much! I really didn’t want to miss training tonight. Your girlfriend won’t mind, right?”

Ignis frowned. “My girlfriend?”

Iris giggled. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Ignis. I think it’s cute.”

He sighed. _Prompto probably planted that seed_. _Of course_. “A woman staying at my apartment doesn’t make her my girlfriend,” Ignis insisted, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. Iris was right; no one cared about his personal life anymore. “But, she won’t mind. Talcott’s even better behaved than I was at his age.”

For some reason, Iris laughed at that. “Okay, great. You’re the best, Iggy!”

She began to walk away when he called out to her. “Iris? Don’t worry too much about Gladio. Wasn’t he partnered with a woman for this hunt? I’m sure they’re just _taking their time_ on the way back.” Ignis didn’t know who this Diana was, but, knowing the eldest Amicitia, he was certain that she and Gladio were ‘taking their time’ at every haven and rest stop they encountered.

Iris made a noise in her throat that went from relieved to irritated in less than a second, and then stomped off, cursing her brother under her breath.

 

* * *

 

It was past eight when Valeria turned the key to the door of Ignis’s apartment, filled with a sense of something akin to _deja vu_.

She’d been, for lack of a better word, _working_ all day and half the evening, talking with people in the market, trying to convince them that acting against their self-interest was somehow _in_ their best interest. It was just like her old life - almost. Aside from the crowded, squalid streets, the constant darkness, and beneath it all, the constant undercurrent of fear. And instead of coming home to her spacious apartment, luxurious and well-appointed and empty and cold, there was Ignis, waiting for her in his tiny kitchen, ready to welcome her back with a warm meal.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit burnt,” Ignis said with a wince, handing her a plate.

“You, or the food?” she asked, even though it was obvious that the chicken and potatoes had been cooked too long.

“The food.”

“Then I don’t care.” Valeria dug into her dinner accordingly, proud of Ignis for giving the oven a try and not injuring himself in the process. As she ate, she told him she’d learned from her inquiries that day.

In addition to being incredibly difficult for an establishment to get a permit or license without EXINERIS connections, there were apparently strict requirements to keeping one, namely that one could not close for more than twenty consecutive days and legally stay in business. From her preliminary inquiries, it was clear that James was far from the only person unwilling to run the risk of losing their business in the long-term. If only she could guarantee that they’d be able to keep their jobs when this was all over...

Talcott sat across from her at Ignis’s kitchen table, frowning down at his notebook. He was wearing a cactuar t-shirt, using a cactuar pencil case, and had several cactuar keychains hanging off the zipper on his backpack.

“Wow, Talcott,” Valeria said. “You really like cactuars.” She must have noticed this when she was staying with Iris, but her mind had been too clouded by worry to really process anything she was seeing back then.

In response, Talcott bent his arms at ninety-degree angles, one pointing up and the other down, and shouted, “ _Thousand needles!_ ” before bursting into giggles.

“Nasty little buggers,” Ignis murmured from the kitchen.

“You really like them better than chocobos?” Valeria asked. Personally, she was far more enamored with the large birds than the walking cactii.

“Chocobos are _okay_ ,” Talcott said, his tone almost authoritative. “But cactuars are way cooler.”

“I see,” Valeria said, bemused.

“Um...” Talcot suddenly began to fidget. “Do you think you could check my homework, Miss Val? Please?”

Valeria could have sworn she heard Ignis chuckle, but when she turned toward where he stood in front of the sink, all she could see was his back.

“Uh, sure. Let me see.”

Talcott handed over his notebook, and Valeria was relieved to see a bunch of multiplication problems. He had done well enough on the simpler equations, but nearly all of the more complex ones were wrong.

“You need to redo these,” Valeria said, handing back his notebook with the incorrect solutions circled.

“Oh.” Talcott’s big blue eyes scanned the page, the hope seeming to go out of him incrementally. “Um, how do I fix it?”

Valeria frowned. She was good at math - _very_ good at math. That didn’t mean she had the first clue on how to explain such basic concepts as multiplication. _Do it right_ , she wanted to say, knowing that was most unhelpful.

“Okay.” Valeria scooted her chair around so that she was sitting alongside Talcott. “So this first one here...”

She did her best to try to explain each problem in turn, as simply as possible, and by the end, he had all the correct answers, although she wasn’t sure how much of that he’d actually retained, as opposed to just letting her do the work for him. Ignis brought them a small dessert after Talcott’s books were put away, and the three of them enjoyed their sweets while Ignis regaled them with the tale of a chance encounter with a sneaky cactuar while out on the road with Noctis.

After finishing his food, Talcott took it upon himself to walk his dishes to the sink, then announced that he needed to shower so he could get to bed on time.

“Jeez,” Valeria said, after Talcott shut the bathroom door behind him. “This kid is making _us_ look bad.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said with a grin. “His grandfather’s influence, I believe. Certainly not Gladio’s.”

After clearing the table, he brought a large, folded piece of paper and spread it across the tabletop.

“Would you mind looking at something with me?” he asked, pressing the folds flat with his fingertips.

“Of course not,” Valeria replied, moving to stand by Ignis’s side. The paper was blank. Without a word, Valeria flipped it over and turned it sideways, revealing a map of Lestallum, lines faded from being photocopied too many times.

“Blast,” Ignis grumbled under his breath when he realized he’d laid it out upside down.

“You had a fifty-fifty shot,” Valeria said, playfully elbowing his ribs. She was relieved when he cracked a smile.

“I’ve never liked to rely on probability.”

“So,” she said. “It’s a map of Cleigne.” Valeria assumed he already knew that, but decided to reiterate just in case.

“The Imperial refugees,” Ignis began. “They cannot continue to live in the tunnel outside the city indefinitely.”

“I know.” Valeria had passed through the Imperial refugee camp when she first entered Lestallum, exhausted and completely overwhelmed, and despite that, the squalor and misery had not escaped her notice. “You want to relocate them?” she asked.

“There’s no room inside the city,” Ignis said with a sigh. “I have some concerns about separating people based on nationality - particularly people with whom we were so recently at war - but we have little choice now.”

“I guess not.” Valeria stared down at the map. Cleigne was a region she had very little familiarity with - aside from the Disc and Ravatogh, other landmarks and settlements had not been warranted interesting enough to study back in school.

“How far can EXINERIS extend their power lines?” Ignis asked.

“I can’t say for sure without looking over their schematics.” _Which they’ll never let me get my eyes on_ , she thought. “But, considering they used to run electricity all the way out to Leide, I think anywhere in this vicinity is plausible.”

“Good. I...” Ignis’s face contorted into a frown and, for a moment, it was almost as if Valeria could read his mind. She grabbed his wrist and placed his finger where Lestallum was marked on the map.

“Here’s the city.” She moved their hands due southeast. “And here’s the Disc.” After scanning the map for a few seconds, she moved them further south. “What about Old Lestallum?”

“Hmm...it’s less like a city than the name implies. Little more than a rest stop, really. And, as I recall, open on all sides. It would be quite difficult to fortify.”

“Oh.” Valeria looked at the map, then turned to look at Ignis as he was lost in thought, and she realized it was one of the first times he’d allowed her to stand along his left, heavily-scarred side. The mottled, red skin extended from behind his dark sunglasses from his cheekbone to forehead, obliterating the outer half of his eyebrow. She didn’t think he could even open his eye at all on that side.

Seeing what the Niffs had done to him made her want to throw the map out the window and say to hell with them all - let them starve and rot. Let the plague of daemons they brought upon Lucis swallow them whole. But, it wasn’t their fault. Those people stuck outside Lestallum hadn’t fired the cannons that had ravaged Ignis’s face and stolen his sight, or shot the rifles that had murdered her mother. They were just people, and, in this time when daemons threatened to destroy everything, humanity needed to stick together.

“Iggy,” Valeria said quietly, recalling what Prompto had said when she had gone to meet with Cor Leonis. “Is it true that daemons are - or, used to be - people?”

Ignis’s lips parted for a moment, undoubtedly surprised at the seemingly random question, before pressing into a flat, grim line. “Yes,” he said. “That is true. I...well, I didn’t literally _see_ the transformation firsthand, but I witnessed it.” More solemnly, he added, “I wish I hadn’t, to be honest.”

Valeria tightened her grip on Ignis’s wrist. “I saw it too,” she whispered, recalling the creature in the cage that had begged her to die.

Ignis whipped his head around in alarm. “What? You did? What happened?”

“I don’t...” She looked down and saw her knuckles going white, Ignis’s skin red where her fingers dug into his flesh. Valeria quickly pulled her hand away. “Iggy, I don’t want to, I...”

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, reaching out for her arm. He gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze before grasping her hand once more. “Fort Vaullerey...can you show me where that is?”

Valeria swallowed the sickness rising in her throat. “Uh, yeah, let me see...”

She turned back to the map once more, locating the Fort south of the city of Lestallum, with something barely legible scrawled overtop it in blue pen.

“Here,” she said, putting Ignis’s finger in the spot. “It says, uh... ‘Niff occupied’ with a question mark... I think. Whoever wrote that has terrible handwriting, my Gods.”

That caused Ignis to chuckle. “Is that so? I never would have guessed... At any rate, as I recall, the Fort already has high walls and a strong gate, and it is fairly closeby.”

“You’ve been there before?”

“We cleared it once,” Ignis said. “Although it apparently did not stay that way.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “You _cleared_ it? With what army?”

“Ah. Perhaps ‘infiltrate’ is a better word. But, by the time we were through, there were few Imperials left standing. Noct’s powers, combined with a clandestine approach, more than made up for the difference in numbers. And a bit of righteous anger as well.” Ignis suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. “The man in charge there, he murdered Talcott’s grandfather, for no reason but his association with the royal family.”

Valeria’s hand shot up to the thin scar under her eye, leftover from the beating she had received for much the same reason. She hadn’t told Ignis about that - partially because she didn’t want to relive it, but mostly because she knew he would blame himself, in spite of her wholehearted belief that his friendship was worth a dozen times the pain.

“EXINERIS would need to establish power there,” Ignis said, his voice resuming its normal volume. “I’m going to assume they were not supplying the Imperials.”

“The Niffs have their own generators,” Valeria said. “Magitek. I’m not entirely sure how they work, but their generators can integrate with our power systems - I’m betting it could be done in reverse.”

Ignis’s fingers drummed on the tabletop before he broke into a grin. “I believe this has some promise. We shall speak to the Marshal about it tomorrow, and then you can work your magic on the women of EXINERIS.”

“Magic?” Valeria snorted. “I think it’s closer to verbal entrapment.”

“Magic,” Ignis said again with a playful smile, the kind that made her weak in the knees.

Talcott shutting the bathroom door behind him with a yawn caused Valeria to start, and she quickly dropped Ignis’s hand.

“I’m kinda sleepy,” the boy announced, heading toward the small linen closet to retrieve a pillow and blanket.

“Are you in your pajamas?” Ignis asked, taking the map from the table and folding it once more. Valeria noticed that he dog-eared the top right corner to indicate which side was front.

“Yes, sir.” Talcott placed the things on the couch, then removed a small nightlight in the shape of a cactuar and plugged it into the nearest wall.

“And you brushed your teeth?”

“Yes, sir,” Talcott said again. _Yes_ , Valeria thought. _This kid is definitely making us look bad_.

Ignis, for his part, seemed a bit surprised by the child’s forethought as well, mumbling, “very well” before moving to the area of the apartment that functioned as his bedroom. Valeria couldn’t help but wonder if, even at twice Talcott’s age, Prince Noctis still had to be reminded to get ready for bed.

Stifling her own yawn (apparently such things were, in fact, contagious), Valeria followed Ignis behind the folding screen. He pulled a rolled sleeping bag out from under the bed.

“Is that for Talcott?” she asked. “He already got a blanket out of the closet.”

“For me,” Ignis replied, getting back on his feet. “If you need to use the restroom in the middle of the night, I’d appreciate it if you would step over me.”

Valeria frowned, then crossed her arms. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

Ignis cracked half a smile. “It might surprise you to learn where I can fall asleep.”

“No. You should sleep in the bed.” Valeria tried to take the sleeping back from Ignis’s hands, but he held fast, so they stood there with it stuck between them.

“And force you to sleep on the floor?” Ignis scoffed. “I think not.”

“No,” Valeria said again. “We can both...”

Ignis’s grip on the sleeping bag faltered. “It’s, er... an awfully small bed.”

“I know.” Valeria kept her eyes on the floor, feeling terribly embarrassed, as if she were proposing something lewd, untoward. “I...I don’t mind.”

“I...” Ignis swallowed hard. “Very well.” He stowed the sleeping bag back under the bed slowly, deliberately, as if he were waiting for her to change her mind. She didn’t.

After changing into her own pajamas and brushing her teeth, Valeria laid down on her side facing the wall, and scooted as close to the edge of the narrow bed as she could manage. She had no idea why her heart was suddenly pounding, why she was nervous. They were going to sleep, and only sleep  - anything else was strictly out of the question with a child lying just a few feet away. She had been intimate with several other men - why was it that around Ignis she became an awkward, confused teenager?

“All set there, Talcott?” she heard Ignis ask. Talcott murmured his goodnights and then the overhead light went off, bathing the room in an eerie green glow.

Valeria gripped the blankets, seized by a sudden panic that had nothing to do with sharing a bed with a man. _The daemons_... No. It was just Talcott’s cactuar nightlight. How many times had Ignis told her she was safe here?

Valeria took the time while he was in the bathroom to try to get herself back under control. _It’s just a stupid nightlight_. The footsteps and creaking floorboards were just Ignis making his way back across the room.

“Val?” She nearly jumped off the bed when he whispered her name. And despite being unable to see, it didn’t escape Ignis’s notice. “What is it?”

“Nothing. You just startled me.”

“Oh. I apologize.” She looked over her shoulder to find him standing alongside the bed in a t-shirt, boxer shorts, and his sunglasses, one hand on the blanket. “If this isn’t alright...”

“It’s fine, Iggy.” She purposely turned back to face the wall before speaking again, hoping he could hear the difference. “Don’t fall asleep in your glasses.”

“Right.” She’d never considered Ignis vain, but he had always been very image-conscious. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for him now, to have scars on his face and not even be able to see them. Valeria didn’t care about his scars, of course, but she didn’t want to push him into anything that made him uncomfortable either.

Ignis sank down on the mattress, but it was a few more moments before she heard him put the glasses on the nightstand and lie down. Due to the size of the bed, their bodies were immediately pressed close. After a while, she felt one of his hands cautiously snake around her waist, and she grabbed it, brought it around her body so that he was holding her, her back pressed tight against his abdomen.

Valeria let out the breath she had been holding, and realized she actually felt more comfortable than she had a few moments ago when she was alone. The warmth of him, the weight of his arm encircling her body made her feel protected, safe.

“Comfortable?” he murmured into her ear. His breath was warm and soft against the back of her neck.

“Mm-hmm. You?”

“Indeed.”

Valeria slept as well as she had the first night she had stayed with him, only this time it wasn’t from exhaustion, but contentment.

 

* * *

 

Ignis slept fitfully throughout the night, frequently waking to confirm that Valeria was indeed in his apartment, in his bed, pressed close and letting him hold her tight. She seemed to sleep soundly for once, unwoken by the thumping of his heart. For a man who always liked to be three steps ahead, life had certainly found ways to surprise him; he hadn’t even allowed himself to dream of this back in high school. Now, it wasn’t a mere dream. It wasn’t all too good to be true.

When he next woke, Valeria was rising from the bed, and Ignis immediately rolled over, instinctively burying the ruined side of his face in the pillow. If she was going to keep staying with him, if he wanted to do more than hold her (and Stars, he did), he knew he was going to have to get over this self-consciousness, but he wasn’t ready yet. Just contemplating it caused his heart to beat anxiously.

He heard the commode flush, the squeak of the bathroom faucet being turned on then off, Valeria padding across his apartment floor. The dark part of him said that she was going to find somewhere else to sleep, that he was a fool for thinking she’d want any part of this with him, but the blankets shifted and the mattress sagged as she climbed back onto the bed.

“Is Talcott still asleep?” Ignis whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” Valeria pressed her head between his shoulder blades and rested her hand on his upper arm. He swallowed the lump forming his throat, the sheer enormity of emotions welling up inside of him - joy and wonder and trepidation. This sort of affection...it was almost too much to bear.

“It’s only five,” Valeria said into his back.

Her voice brought Ignis out of his own head. “Five is early to you now, is it?”

He felt her exhale. “Huh... I guess so.”

Ignis smiled, sharing her bemusement as he realized that it seemed rather early to him as well. They still had two hours to lay here like this before he had to get up and get Talcott ready for school.

Ignis lifted his arm so that she wrapped hers around his waist, covering her hand with his, praying to all the Gods she wouldn’t let go. Her hands had always been so elegant - long, well manicured nails, fingers slender and smooth. Now, her fingernails felt short and ragged, skin calloused and rough.

 _I’ll give you that life back_ , Ignis vowed silently. Somehow, he would find a way. When their king returned, they would bring back the light and retake the city. He would never stop fighting for her.

“Oh, Iggy...” The content sigh Valeria made into his back did nothing to help the half-erection he’d woken up with, and Ignis was glad he was facing away from her. He wasn’t even ready to let her fully look upon his scarred face; as much as he may have wanted anything (everything) else on a primal level, intellectually, emotionally, he was still miles away.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, squeezing his side. “It doesn’t hurt to say it now.”

His chest heaved as his breath caught in his throat. “I...” _I love you_. Even though they both knew it, he couldn’t quite bring his mouth to form the words. “I missed you too,” was all he could manage.

“I wish I could have been there for you after...” This time, the sigh she made was anything but content. “I’m sorry.”

Ignis wasn’t certain if she was apologizing for not being there, for bringing up the topic of his wounding, or the fact that it had happened at all. Regardless, she had nothing to be sorry about.

“Just being able to speak with you helped.” He hadn’t realized just how immensely until after the fact, when he was trying to get settled in Lestallum and could no longer reach her. “Besides,” he added. “You’re not the only one to have those sorts of regrets.”

“I guess we both did the best we could under the circumstances.”

 _She_ had. But in quiet moments like these, Ignis often found himself wondering if things would have turned out differently, if Noctis would still be here, if the sun would still rise every morning, if only he had done something else. Trusting the Chancellor was his greatest mistake; at the time, Ignis had reasoned that you couldn’t walk into a trap if you already knew it had been set.

 _What a fool I was_. He was the one who had urged them all to move forward, to never look back. And yet here he was, dwelling on the past. If Ignis had somehow managed to outfox the Chancellor, would he even be here with Valeria right now? And if that was the choice he had to make, then the Six were even crueler than he thought.

 _Enough_. He could do nothing for Noctis now. But he could be here, present, with her. Ignis intertwined his fingers with hers, concentrating on the way her hand felt beneath his, the curve of her body pressed along his side, the warm cadence of her breathing against his back. The Gods were cruel, he decided, but sometimes they could be kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hopefully) back to the regular Thursday posting schedule, finally! We're not quite in the home stretch of this story, but I'd say we're nearing the third act :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update, finally. I'm trying to get back into a better writing routine, so I hope I won't have any more weeks without posting.

On her second visit to Silvia Fontaine at the EXINERIS offices, Valeria felt every bit as uncomfortable as the first. The woman had a direct, unblinking stare that made her feel like she was sitting under a magnifying glass, like every twitch, every blink was being marked and catalogued to use against her at some later date.

“So, you’ve managed to start a food bank.” Silvia’s lips quirked upward, an expression that was more menace than smile. “Even got the Hunters to do the legwork. Impressive. What I _don’t_ appreciate is you making promises I can’t keep.”

Valeria narrowly resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “You’re talking about the permits.”

“What exactly did you tell them?”

“That any business that donates food or other supplies will sort of be....grandfathered into whatever’s guaranteed by their permit when this is all over. Even if they close up shop in the interim.” It had been the only way to convince them to hand over the supplies the city so desperately needed. All these people still so focused on the future...Valeria could only conclude that none of them had been outside the city walls and seen what the world had been reduced to.

Silvia flexed her sharp jaw. “The law clearly states-”

“The _law_ was clearly written for times of peace, not global crisis.” Valeria cut her off, feeling her ire rising. “The law also states that the city will be governed by a mayor, not a power company.”

Silvia narrowed her eyes at the jab, glaring at Valeria as if she could intimidate her into taking it back. But Valeria wouldn’t allow herself to be cowed by people like her, not anymore. Not after she’d seen daemons tearing men limb from limb.

After a long moment, Silvia made a grunt of irritation and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the desk drawer, along with an ashtray and book of matches. She lit one up and inhaled deeply, not offering anything to Valeria, nor asking if she minded the smoke.

“You’re vexing,” Silvia said, exhaling smoke through her nose. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve been called a lot worse,” Valeria admitted.

“I’m sure you have,” Silvia muttered, then leaned forward in her chair. “Let me tell you about the mayor, because I know what they’re saying about me out there. It’s no secret that I couldn’t stand the woman. I certainly didn’t vote for her.” She took a long drag on her cigarette.

“Right after the darkness fell, she left to go check on the people of Old Lestallum - stupid, if you ask me, to go personally, but frankly, she never stuck me as terribly bright. After a week with no word and no sign of the fool, I took over. Someone had to.”

 _Somehow, I doubt you mind being in charge_ , Valeria thought, but she kept it to herself. “Okay,” was all she said aloud.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not trying to be some dictator, throwing out all the rules and starting some revolution.”

“Well, I don’t think living up here in this nice building is helping your image,” Valeria replied. Somehow, knowing she got under the woman’s skin, made her feel emboldened.

Silvia sucked on her cigarette, watching the tendrils of smoke spiral toward the ceiling. “What do you want me to do? No one is paying me for the all the power I’m running to keep this city safe, which means I can’t afford to pay my employees. What I _can_ give them is a nice place to live, safe and clean, away from the crowds.” She pointed the cigarette toward Valeria. “You know as well as I do that people don’t work for free.”

Valeria wanted to tell her she was wrong, that in the worst times people banded together and lifted each other up. But she’d had far too many experiences to the contrary to argue her point with any sincerity.

“It...it’s good of you not to charge.”

“Well, thanks.” The sneer around Silvia’s words indicated she took the compliment as more condescending than genuine. She ashed the stub of her cigarette, contemplated what remained in the package, before tucking it all back away in her desk.

“Are you familiar with Fort Vaullerey?” Valeria asked.

“Of course I am,” Silvia replied. “No one liked having the Niffs so close to the city. Not that the mayor was going to do anything about it.”

“And...what about the Niffs stuck outside the city now?”

Silvia crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you getting at?”

“Relocating the refugees stuck outside the city to the Fort. Assuming we could connect it to the existing power grid,” Valeria said.

Silvia gave her another long, probing stare before speaking. “Extending the lines would take a few days of work, but it’s feasible.”

Valeria perked up. “I’m sure the Hunters could provide protection for the workers.”

“Before that, though, I’d need numbers. Measurements. Niffs can’t even be bothered to use standard light bulbs, so I have no idea what sort of load we’re talking about.”

“The Hunters-”

“No, no, no.” Silvia cut her off, wagging her index finger. “I don’t trust those idiots to add two plus two. I’m sending _you_.”

Valeria could have sworn the walls began to cave in as her stomach plummeted to the floor. “M-me?” _Outside?_

“Of course,” Silvia replied. “I know I can trust you to bring me the numbers I need, and you seem to be awfully passionate about this. You wanted a job, didn’t you?”

For a moment, Valeria thought she was going to be sick right there, all over the EXINERIS CEO’s desk. But she swallowed it - the fear, the smell of blood and death, the screams... _I can’t go back there_. _I can’t_... But she’d promised Ignis she would help. How could she explain to a man who’d faced down daemons and the Empire, literally blind, that she was too afraid?

“I’m sure the Hunters will protect you,” Silvia said. Was that a smirk on her face? She must have seen it with those hawk-like eyes of hers, seen that Valeria was terrified.

Valeria wondered if this was all part of some elaborate way of getting back at her mother. _Mom..._ She must have been frightened too, that night in Insomnia when the Niffs came. But she hadn’t frozen or panicked. She’d fought her way through, took control, and threw herself in front of bullets so her daughter could live.

Valeria couldn’t speak; her mouth was too dry. But she looked at Silvia Fontaine and nodded.

 

* * *

 

Ignis had spent the day assisting at the food bank - which, for the moment, was functioning more as a soup kitchen than anything else - established at the former location of James’ restaurant. The man had generously donated the space, reasoning that it was functioning more as a charity anyway, and Valeria had assured him that he’d be able to reopen as a proper restaurant once the Light returned. And if EXINERIS or whomever took issue with that, Ignis had no qualms about using his relationship with the King to ensure James stayed in business.

James was the first real friend Ignis had made since moving to Lestallum, and, in truth, it was a bit of a relief to pass the time with someone who had never known him before he lost his sight. Someone who simply accepted him for what he was, who wasn’t constantly comparing him to his former, sighted self, who didn’t see him as _less_. Ignis could hardly blame anyone for doing these things (he himself did it all the time), but James’ friendship was a welcome change of pace.

And, more importantly, Ignis was starting to feel like more of a help than a hindrance in the kitchen. The two of them had put their heads together to concoct something palatable from the myriad supplies that had been donated, many of them on the verge of spoiling. In the end, the stew they’d come up with was perhaps neither man’s finest work, but it was tasty enough, filling, and nutrient-rich. At least, Ignis had not heard any complaints from the many hungry people they’d served.

He told Valeria as much when she’d returned that evening, after preparing a bit of weak tea for them to share (they’d decided to save his dwindling Ebony supply for special occasions). She responded in short, clipped phrases or single words, and Ignis wondered if she was even listening to him at all.

“Has something happened?” he asked, unable to bear her stoicism any longer.

“...Not yet,” Valeria replied, her leg bouncing nervously against the underside of his kitchen table.

So, he was going to have to pry it out of her. Ignis barely managed to suppress a sigh. “Would you mind elaborating?” He stopped himself from making a (poor) joke about being in the dark.

“I went to EXINERIS today,” she said.

“Ah. Were they angry about the permits?”

“Not really.” The way Valeria brushed off the question made Ignis think that wasn’t what was bothering her. “We talked about Fort Vaullerey.”

“Oh, yes,” Ignis said. “Moving the foreign refugees. Were they receptive to the idea?”

“Yeah. They, um...” He heard her take a deep breath. “They want me to go. To, uh...to go to the Fort.”

Ignis could feel the scowl forming on his face. “Whatever for?”

“To calculate the power they’d need to generate to keep the Fort running.” Her knee was practically shaking the table.

“There must be dozens of people qualified to do that. You don’t have to go.”

“She said _me_ ,” Valeria replied in a small voice. “Specifically.”

Ignis folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t certain of the current situation at the Fort, but as he’d recently learned first-hand, any trip outside the safety of Lestallum’s walls and lights, no matter how safe it seemed, was a risk.

“They’re using you,” he growled. “Using you to do the jobs they don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Ignis hated how small she sounded, how defeated and afraid. She still hadn’t shared the details of her journey in the Darkness with him, but he knew it must have been harrowing, and had fundamentally changed her outlook on the world.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ignis asserted, desperate to find her a way out. “I know the Marshal said he needed help with EXINERIS, but you don’t have to-”

“I _have_ to,” Valeria said, a bit of her usual fire back in her voice. “Not because of what the Marshal asked, but because...because so many people died, died before they even had a chance to...” She trailed off, voice trembling, before regaining her composure. “I can’t just sit around and play house. I _have_ to do something. I owe it to those people, who...who didn’t make it.”

Ignis shook his head. “You don’t owe anyone anything. And you’re already doing plenty. We must have fed at least a hundred people today, and that was thanks, in large part, to you.”

“Iggy.” Valeria’s knee had ceased its violent shaking. “You’ve always helped other people. Put them before yourself. I didn’t. I - let me finish,” she said as he opened his mouth to argue.

“I did what people told me to do, what was expected of me, because I wanted their approval. That’s all. When the Niffs came, and I thought I might die, I realized my life - it was nothing. There was nothing there. I...I am Gods damned terrified, but I want to start doing things because they’re the _right_ things to do, and not for just some...some pat on the back.”

“Well, I...” Ignis cleared his throat. The swell of admiration, of affection and pride he felt for her, threatened to knock him out of his seat. He couldn’t think of anything remotely adequate to say in response. “That is...that is quite admirable. But, you don’t want commendation for your actions, so...”

“Maybe still from you,” she said softly, almost sounding shy. “It’s not a good reason to do something, but it still feels nice.”

“Ah.” The warmth spreading through his chest felt like it was going to engulf him. The only thing he could do was turn to the practical, factual part of the subject. “Gladio will go with you. He’ll protect you.”

Ignis felt smaller, gentle fingers on the back of his hand, grabbing it and holding it tight. “Okay. But, I want you to go too. _Please_.”

 _Gods_. His mind immediately conjured up a handful of memories of her round, hazel eyes, staring up at him through long lashes, imploring, making him feel like he was the only man in the world. She could look at him like that and ask for all the water from the ocean, and he would have immediately been off in search of the nearest bucket.

Ignis moistened his lips. “The Marshal, he...”

“The Marshal doesn’t really have a choice,” Valeria replied. “Not if he wants this done.”

“Well, I...” Ignis tried to straighten in his chair, regain some semblance of order in his ardor-stricken mind. “I could never let you go out there alone.” _I could never say ‘no’ to someone who makes me feel like_ **_this_**.

That night, Ignis dreamed he was back at Noctis’s apartment in Insomnia, predictably busy in the kitchen. Steaks were sizzling in the oven as he got to work chopping potatoes - the only vegetable he could convince the Prince to consume. Noctis himself sat splayed on the couch in the living room, lazily swiping at King’s Knight on his phone.

Regarding the mound of dishes in the sink with a weary sigh, Ignis turned back toward the stove, throwing the potatoes onto the skillet. Then his own phone began to ring, buzzing insistently on the counter. Ignis frowned, feeling a stab of guilt when he saw Valeria’s name on the display as he went to silence the ringer.

But it didn’t work. The phone kept ringing and ringing, growing louder and louder, no matter what buttons he pressed. Frustration gave way to panic. _I can’t_ , he thought. _I have to look after the Prince_.

A chuckle came from across the room. Ignis looked up and saw Noctis watching him, a knowing smile on his face.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Noctis asked.

Ignis glanced at the dirty dishes, the bags of trash waiting to be taken to the dumpster, the dust settling on a nearby window sill.

“But, I...”

Noctis’s chuckle turned into a laugh. “ _Come on_ , Specs. Don’t you think you’ve kept her waiting long enough?”

Ignis’s working eyelid snapped open, and the enveloping darkness told him he was awake, no longer dreaming of his lost King. Dreaming of Noctis always left him feeling unsettled, filled with a bittersweet nostalgia that left him wistfully longing for another time.

In his arms, Valeria briefly stirred, her silken hair tickling the tip of his nose. Even after Talcott had returned to the Amicitia suite, they’d continued to share his narrow bed, as innocently as that first night. Innocently, even as his body and heart yearned for more. _Haven’t you kept her waiting long enough?_

Noctis - or rather, Ignis’s subconscious - was correct. He’d made excuses for so long, lied to others and himself, lied until those words began to sound like the truth, and it was all because he was afraid.

Ignis tightened his grip on the hollow of her stomach, pulling Valeria’s body just a bit closer. He thought about what she had said to him hours before, about living for something more than another’s approval, and just how _wrong_ she was about him and the way he lived his life.

That was exactly what he’d been doing, ever since he was five years old and felt obligated to do whatever he could to please the uncle who had taken him in. Then came his teachers, the Marshal, and the King - important people whose approval meant a great deal, to be certain, but maybe there really was more to life than that. In fact, the first truly selfish thing he’d done was insisting that he continue on the journey with Noctis and the rest after losing his sight; he knew others saw it as brave, even selfless, but the simple truth was that he simply would not have known what to do with himself if he were left behind. Left alone, with no duty to fulfill, and no one to commend him.

 _What do_ **_I_ ** _want?_ Ignis wondered. The fact that such a question was so difficult to ask himself, let alone answer, spoke volumes.

 

* * *

 

As Valeria had ensured, the Marshal had little choice but to acquiesce to her request to allow Ignis to join the party to Fort Vaullerey. Gladiolus had taken the lead, of course, but he had more than the success of the mission to worry about - Iris had somehow managed to worm her way into coming along (being Cor’s best and favorite young pupil certainly must have helped), and although Gladio hadn’t actually said anything about it, Ignis could tell from his friend’s intermittent grumbling that he wasn’t pleased. Prompto rounded out their group; he had only returned from the Chocobo Post a few days prior, but had immediately volunteered upon learning that the purpose was to relocate and ultimately improve the lot of the Imperial refugees.

They’d stopped on the way at a rest stop the Hunters had transformed into a fortified base; Valeria had described the high fences, topped in floodlights and razor wire, as they’d pulled in, seeming to relax at how well-secured the area was. Their plan was to eat a meal and get some sleep before setting out for the Fort. After a meager supper of canned beans and vegetables, Ignis settled back in the flimsy plastic chair at the flimsy plastic table, contemplating the report they’d received from the scouting party.

 _All dark_. As recently as a week ago, Hunters had observed the presence of Imperial soldiers at Fort Vaullerey, and though estimates on their numbers were unclear, their seeming disappearance was troubling. Perhaps even more troubling was that there was no sign of the likely culprits. They - which is to say, Professor Sania Yeager - were still working to understand daemon behavior, but it was generally theorized that they tended to linger near areas of human habitation, even after destroying all the inhabitants.

No Imperials, and no sign of daemons. Ignis knew it was too much to hope that they had all packed up and moved on, leaving Fort Vaullerey free for the taking.

Beside him, Valeria pushed out her chair and announced she was going to get more to drink. Ignis opened his mouth to offer to join her, but Iris beat him to it.

“You want more?” Valeria asked, laying a gentle hand on his wrist.

“If you don’t mind,” Ignis said.

“Not at all.” Valeria took the empty cup from him, her footsteps receding in time with Iris’s as they walked away.

After the women were out of earshot, Prompto let out a long, wistful sigh. “Maaaan, you guys are totally, like, relationship goals.”

Ignis scowled. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You and Val,” Prompto said. “You’re like, so in sync. You even sit the same.”

 _Did_ they sit the same? Ignis had never noticed before, and now, well...it was more difficult for him to tell.

“You do,” Gladiolus said, as if he could read Ignis’s thoughts.

 _Not you too, Gladio_. “We’ve known each other a long time,” he explained. For a reason he couldn’t quite place, talking about this with his friends made him feel flustered. “That’s all.”

“ _Come on_ , Iggy,” Prompto chided. “Just accept it, okay? You have an awesome girlfriend and I’m _totally_ jealous.”

Ignis sighed and adjusted his sunglasses. “I suppose you’re going to believe what you want, regardless of whatever I say.”

“Yup,” Prompto replied.

“You hitting that?” Gladiolus asked, far too casually.

“Gladio!” Ignis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Prompto laughed awkwardly. “I prefer to keep my private affairs _private_ , thank you very much.”

“Not asking for a play-by-play,” Gladio said, undeterred by Ignis’s embarrassment. “Just saying.”

“Yeah!” Prompto said. “It’s okay to kick back a little bit, you know? Noct would want you to enjoy yourself.”

Even though he was sitting across from him, Ignis could have sworn he _felt_ Gladiolus suddenly tense up like a coiled spring at the mention of their erstwhile king. He knew that wasn’t Prompto’s intention, so he tried to keep his response light.

“Indeed. If I’m occupied with other matters, I can’t harp on him to eat his vegetables.”

Prompto laughed at that, but Gladio remained silent and still as a rock. They were rescued by Valeria’s approaching footsteps.

“Here you go,” she said, taking Ignis by the wrist and placing his refilled cup in his hand.

“Thank you,” Ignis replied as she pulled her chair alongside him and sat down.

“What?” Valeria said, then leaned into Ignis to clarify, “He’s looking at me funny.”

“Prompto?” Ignis replied. “I believe that’s just his face.”

“Hey! Come on.”

“Where’s Iris?” Gladiolus barked out, his tone reflecting what Ignis already suspected.

“Chatting with a few of the Hunters,” Valeria replied. “Said they were her friends.”

“Uh-oh,” Prompto called out, his tone sing-songy. “ _Friiiends?_ ” He elongated the word in a way that even Ignis found grating.

“Shut it,” Gladiolus snapped.

“And mind your own business,” Ignis added, not unkindly.

“So tell me,” Valeria began, obviously sensing they needed a change of subject, and probably wanting a distraction herself. “What’s the funniest thing that happened while you guys were out on the road?”

Prompto exhaled deeply. “Hmm...let’s see...Oh! _Yeah_. Definitely that time a chocobo stole Specs’ spectacles.”

“What?” Ignis thought Valeria turned toward him as she asked the question, and hoped his cheeks hadn’t gone too crimson.

“Yeah,” Gladiolus agreed, although he didn’t sound particularly amused. “That was pretty good.”

“Neither of you were even there!” Ignis protested. _Of course Noct told them_. _Of course_.

“Nope. But we heard you freaking out back at camp,” Prompto said.

“Pretty sure the whole Myrlwood heard him,” Gladio added.

“Oh, come now,” Ignis said, crossing his arms. “It was _hardly_ the funniest thing to happen.” Although he could think of no good counterexamples at the moment.

“How in the world did a chocobo steal your glasses?” Valeria asked.

 _Damn_ , he thought. _Must I be spared no humiliation?_ “I, well...I was trying to get a photo with it, if you must know. And it plucked the glasses right from my nose.”

Prompto burst out laughing. “You were trying to take a picture? Noct didn’t tell me _that_.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t your talent for self-photography. Clearly.” Beside Ignis, Valeria was doing a very poor job trying to conceal her own laughter - a sound he usually relished, when it wasn’t at his expense.

“What the hell were you trying to get a picture for?” Gladiolus asked.

Ignis sighed, certain he was blushing even harder than before, and he jerked his head toward Valeria. “She _loves_ chocobos. And since the black variety are so rare...”

“Awww,” Prompto cooed while at the same time, Valeria grabbed Ignis’s arm.

“Stars, It was a _black_ one?” she asked, her voice high. “Did you get any pictures at all?”

Ignis spread his hands as if to say to his friends, ‘Do you see what I mean?’ Aloud, he replied, “Alas, no. I was rather preoccupied trying to reclaim my spectacles.”

“I got a shot of one!” Prompto said. There was a rustling noise like he was going through his things. “Check it out.”

Valeria let out an adorable, girlish squeal. “It’s a baby chick! Gods, it’s _so cute_.”

“We rescued her as an egg,” Prompto said proudly. “She’s still at the Chocobo Post if you ever wanna go see for yourself.”

“How _is_ that chick doing, Prompto?” Ignis asked, recalling Prompto’s recent visit and trying to steer the topic to something less embarrassing.

“Great! She’s got lots of friends. Not really a chick anymore, though.”

Ignis nodded appreciatively as Valeria reluctantly returned to photograph to its owner.

“I’ll make you a copy!” Prompto offered.

“I would _love_ that,” Valeria replied. “Thank you!” _I told you so_ , Ignis thought.

“Hey, Gladio,” Prompto ventured, apparently picking up on the larger man’s silence. “Wanna play some King’s Knight?”

“Meh.” Gladiolus grunted in indifference.

“King’s Knight?” Valeria’s phone beeped as she powered it on. “I’ll play.”

Ignis couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re in trouble now.”

“I...I am?” Prompto asked. “I mean...I like to think I’m pretty good...”

Ignis merely chuckled in response, knowing what sort of misfortune was in store for his friend.

“Give me your phone,” Valeria said to Prompto. “The reception’s pretty bad here, but I’ll set up a local network so we can play without any lag.”

“You can do that?” Prompto sounded awed.

“Sure, it’s easy. I’ll show you.”

Ignis sipped his water while the two of them walked through the process of setting up their game. _A rather pleasant evening_ , he thought. If only Gladiolus would come around.

It wasn’t as if the rest of them didn’t miss Noctis, and terribly, too. But, they had the Glacian’s assurances that their King was safe, and it was just as Prompto said: Noct wouldn’t want them sitting around and moping on his account. He would want his friends to live happily and in full, and to do any less than that would be doing a disservice to their liege. Ignis, admittedly, was still struggling with aspects of that as well, but he was trying, at the very least.

“Alright,” Valeria said, scooting her chair so close to Ignis that she was practically on his lap. Prompto was probably swooning at that.

He heard the familiar tones of the game starting up, the _ding_ of cards being drawn, and then Valeria’s voice was in his ear, whispering the outcome of her spread. She certainly did not _need_ his advice, but he knew she was just trying to ensure that he was included - a small, simple gesture that meant more to him than she could ever understand.

“Hey, no fair!” Prompto cried out. “Two against one!” It _would_ have been more fair if Ignis advised Prompto, but he’d much rather have Valeria sitting this close and whispering in his ear.

So he merely shrugged and said, “At least you’ll have an excuse when she demolishes you.”

“‘D-demolish...?’” Prompto repeated in a panicky voice.

“I’m not going to take any of your cards,” Valeria said. “Frankly, I don’t _want_ any of your cards.”

That made Ignis laugh, but his mirth was short-lived when Gladiolus abruptly stood and muttered, “Gonna go check on Iris,” before stomping away.

“Is something wrong?” Valeria asked quietly.

Ignis shook his head. “He’s not handling Noct’s ‘absence’ well.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, setting his phone down on the table, King’s Knight abandoned in the wake of their friend’s apparent distress. “I mean, it’s been pretty tough for all of us, but Gladio...he just kinda shuts down.”

Ignis sighed and felt Valeria’s hand on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He’d hoped with Iris and Talcott to look after, Gladiolus might be able to find some renewed sense of purpose, but Iris was proving more than capable of defending herself, and Talcott hardly needed a bodyguard to get him to and from school every day.

“But...Noctis is safe, isn’t he?” Valeria asked. “I understand missing having him around, but it’s not like you have to worry about him. Right?”

“Yeah, and he’ll be back,” Prompto said with all the certainty in the world, illustrating exactly why he was able to handle the situation much better than Gladiolus.

“I believe Gladio took the Astrals’ intervention rather personally,” Ignis explained. “And, thus far, refuses to entertain any arguments to the contrary.”

“Maybe we should talk to Iris about it,” Prompto said.

“A capital idea,” Ignis said, nodding. If anyone could reach Gladiolus, it was his cherished little sister.

“We stayed here before, with Noct,” Prompto said, wistful. “This exact spot.”

“We played King’s Knight here as well,” Ignis added. “If I recall correctly.” He’d won, of course.

“Sorry,” Valeria said, suddenly, inexplicably forlorn. “I suppose I’m a poor substitute for the King.”

Ignis frowned, confused. “No one expects you to behave as a substitute, Valeria.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, trying to sound cheerful. “Noct is Noct, and you’re you, right?”

Sometimes (oftentimes), Ignis could barely decipher what the younger man was trying to say, but his optimistic demeanor was appreciated nonetheless.

“I dunno...” Prompto began to fidget with his phone, repeatedly knocking it on the table. “For me, at least, it’s easier when other people are around. When it’s just the three of us...” Ignis shook his head, trying to tell Prompto he didn’t have to go on. “...Yeah...” Prompto concluded.

“Let’s finish King’s Knight,” Ignis decided. He wanted to get back to that pleasant evening. Noctis would have wanted them to get back to that too. “Val went to all that trouble to set it up, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“You just want to laugh at me when I lose.” Nonetheless, Prompto picked up his phone and Ignis heard the tune of the game booting up once more.

Ignis smirked. “Perhaps, Prompto. Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, or if you're not on Tumblr, I posted a short little side-story last week entitled [Errand for the King](http://captain-zajjy.tumblr.com/post/166083619247/errand-for-the-king-a-solstice-side-story-ffxv), featuring Ignis and Valeria back when they were in high school. Feel free to check it out if you'd like a little fluff!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God, I am still writing this story. Actually, I'm going to try to finish it as part of NaNoWriMo before Episode Ignis comes out and makes it officially AU. (I guess the Multiplayer already makes this technically AU, but, like, is anyone actually playing that?)

Fort Vaullerey was ensconced behind a massive wall of concrete, with the only way in or out a tall, heavy gate that had taken the Hunters the better part of the previous evening to force open.

“Don’t reckon there’s anybody inside,” one of them said to Valeria and the others as they entered the perimeter. “What with all the racket we’ve been making.”

Gladiolus, the default leader of the group, grunted in response. “Never hurts to be prepared.” He shot a look at Iris who nodded in response, likely mentally filing away the tip.

“You better take something to defend yourself,” he then said to Valeria, gesturing to what appeared to be a full armory in the back of a Hunter’s truck. “Just in case.”

 _Just in case_. Those words sent a chill through her. She knew if she spent too long contemplating what sort of ‘case’ would require her to have a weapon, she’d fold before they even got inside.

Instead, Valeria approached the bed of the truck, examining the weapons in turn. There were axes, polearms, swords, and larger swords. Most of them looked like they’d be exhausting merely to carry around, never mind wield in any sort of useful manner. The only thing that looked remotely her size was a dagger, similar to the ones Ignis used, but simple and unadorned. Looking at the relatively short length of the blade, she thought if a daemon got that close, she’d already be dead anyway.

“I don’t...” Valeria backed away, shaking her head. “I don’t really know how to use any of this stuff.”

“I recall you being an excellent shot back in our school days,” Ignis said.

“The target wasn’t moving,” she replied. _And I wasn’t so terrified I could barely see straight_.

“Hey, I know.” Prompto stepped forward, apparently not hearing a word she’d just said. “Take this.” He thrust a small, odd-looking pistol into her hands, then began to dig through his pockets.

“I can’t take your gun,” Valeria said.

“Nah.” There was a shimmer and a strange, almost mechanical sound, and then a much more typical looking revolver was in Prompto’s right fist, before it dissipated into nothing. “That’s a flare gun,” he explained, finally producing a handful of large, cylindrical shells from his vest pocket (along with a good deal of lint and an empty candy wrapper).

“But those are different than road flares,” Prompto went on. “Made specifically to hurt daemons. Won’t be much use if we run into Niffs in there, though...”

“That’s okay,” Valeria said. She hated the Niffs, and their Magitek brought back awful memories, but they didn’t terrify her like the daemons did. “Thanks.” She regarded the shells for a moment, then tucked them away in her jacket pocket, placing the empty flare gun into the front pocket of her pants.

“Ah, I nearly forgot this.” Ignis produced the flashlight she’d given him weeks ago and handed it over to her. “I believe you’ll be able to make better use of it than I can.”

Valeria took it from him, trying to choke down the memories of glowing eyes in the dark.

“That was meant to be a joke,” Ignis said when she didn’t reply. “A crude one, perhaps. Val,” he laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be alright.”

 _It’s going to be alright_. That’s what she’d told herself after escaping Insomnia, that nothing could be worse than the Imperial interrogations, their experiments and abductions and carefully crafted lies.

There were worse things. And that was what was causing her knees to quiver now - not the possibility of some concealed Imperial troops, not even the cold, unfeeling Magitek.

 _There are worse things_... But this time, she wasn’t alone. Ignis’s presence was both comforting and terrifying, for as safe as he made her feel, the idea of those things tearing him apart, devouring him, was far more frightening than facing her own demise.

“I know you have your tasks to complete,” Ignis said, sliding his hand down to rest on her elbow. “But I would like you to be my eyes out here - if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Iggy...” _You don’t have to ask that_. “Of course. I only have to write down the numbers.” Valeria double-checked the pants pocket opposite the flare gun Prompto had just given her for her little notebook, pencil, and the tool EXINERIS had loaned her for the job. “I can do the math later.”

Ignis nodded, the light pinned to his jacket lapel illuminating the grateful smile on his face. And Valeria was quietly grateful too. Though she doubted it was entirely his intent, describing the Fort gave her anxious mind something to focus on, something sane to cling to.

The pair of them caught up to Gladiolus, who turned to address the group. “We’ll do a full sweep.” He nodded toward Valeria. “Just holler whenever you need to do your electric thing and we’ll stop.”

Iris gave Valeria a reassuring smile, before turning to her brother, fingering the long, slender blade strapped to her hip. Unlike their male companions, she was unable to summon her weapon from seemingly thin air.

“Okay, Gladdy! Let’s go,” she said, hot on her brother’s heels as they set out to explore the Fort. Prompto hung back, bringing up the rear. Valeria took a deep breath, wishing it would calm the churning in her stomach, and turned on the flashlight, strafing it over the area in front of them.

* * *

 

Though Ignis would never say as much to Gladiolus or Prompto (well, perhaps he would if his mood was sour enough), Valeria was a much better guide than either of them.

Prompto’s aid was cloying, at times making Ignis feel like an invalid, and his incessant chatter had gone from a mild annoyance to a serious distraction after Ignis found himself so reliant on his hearing. Gladiolus, on the other hand, seemed to prefer to ignore the issue entirely, as Ignis found himself running into an outstretched hand that was apparently signalling him to wait or having to ask Gladio to read something written on a paper out loud.

Valeria’s descriptions of their surroundings were succinct but thorough, sufficient to give him a sense of his surroundings without feeling as if he were monopolizing her time. And allowing him to follow her with a hand on her arm, rather than her dragging him here or there, at least afforded him the illusion of some sort of self-sufficiency.

And right now he could tell she was afraid. The muscles in her arm and shoulder were tense, her entire bearing on edge, like she’d bolt at the first loud noise. He didn’t think she actually _would_ run, but hoped his presence would confer some sense of security, however small, in exchange for all she was doing for him.

They quickly examined the guard posts near the gate, then entered the first real building on their left.

“Offices,” Valeria explained as they walked down the corridor. To Ignis’s right, a door banged open, and he heard Gladiolus grunt. “Judging by the amount of dust,” she went on, “I’d say this place has been abandoned for a lot longer than a week.”

“After we cleared the Fort with Noctis, I doubt they would have sent an entire garrison straight away,” Ignis said. Even the Empire wasn’t _that_ efficient. “It’s more likely that they shuffled around a few men stationed at their other Lucian encampments to form a sort of skeleton crew.”

“It’s clear,” Gladiolus said as his heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. A far lighter pair that could only belong to Iris followed in her brother’s wake.

“Yep,” Iris said. “No sign of Niffs or daemons. So far, so good, right?”

“Right!” Prompto said. “Val, do you need to check anything in here?”

“Well,” Valeria began, “Normally I’d just need to find the meters, but the Niffs don’t do things like we do. I think if we can locate the main line that connected each building to the Magitek generators, I should be able to get a decent estimate.”

“Why not just count the generators?” Prompto asked. “Seems a lot easier than trying to find a bunch of power lines in the dark.”

“It’s like Iggy said,” Valeria replied as their group turned back toward the exit. “They probably only brought a few generators with them. Just enough to power the buildings they were using. And I doubt they left what was left of the ones you guys blew up the first time you cleared this place for me to count.”

“Oh, man.” Prompto laughed. “Noct really did blow, like, half of them up. It was _awesome_.”

“There’s also the matter of the Magitek themselves,” Ignis interjected, not wanting to linger on the subject of Noctis for long. “They too are powered by the generators, which would skew any analysis done on the generators alone.”

Iris exhaled sharply. “This sounds pretty complicated.”

“Yeah,” Gladiolus said, sliding the door to the outside back open. “Why you should stay in school.”

Iris made an irritated sound as she followed her brother outside. “I bet you don’t understand it either,” she muttered under her breath.

Ignis let Valeria through the door first, accompanying her as they circled the perimeter of the building, trying not to feel too superfluous as the rest of the group looked for power lines.

“Oh, here it is,” Valeria declared after they’d made one right turn, allowing Ignis to conclude that they were on the side of the building facing away from the gate. “So, they run it on the ground and not in the air,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Ignis prodded the concrete in front of his until his cane struck upon a spot where the ground was slightly raised, covered by a sloped length of something rubber or plastic. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered these things on the ground during his previous forays in Imperial fortifications, as he’d wondered if they were high enough to trip up one of those large, rickety loaders (it was not). It was certainly high enough to trip him up now. _At least I can be of some use_ , he thought darkly, _locating these things by falling over them_.

Valeria took his hand from her elbow and put her flashlight in it, angling his wrist down and to the right.

“Hold it right there,” she instructed, her slightly bossy tone taking him back to the days when they used to study together and the authoritative way she’d inform him whenever he got something wrong.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ignis replied, unable to keep himself from grinning.

“Woah!” Prompto shot by him, as some device in Valeria’s hand made an unfamiliar _beep_. “What’s that thing?”

“A multimeter,” she replied. One of her knees popped as she bent down. “You can use it to measure electric capacity. You just put it around the wire, and - hey, move. You’re in my light.”

“Oh,” Prompto muttered. “Sorry.” From the way the direction of his voice shifted, Ignis thought that the apology was directed at him for some reason.

“So, there’s the reading,” Valeria went on. Her clothes rustled and then there was the scratching of pen on paper, all the while her device continued to _ping_ and _beep_.

“Don’t break it, Prompto,” Ignis said, suspecting his friend was ‘checking it out’ by mashing all the buttons.

“I bet Cindy would love this,” Prompto said, ignoring Ignis entirely. “For batteries and, like... other car stuff.”

“Who’s Cindy?” Valeria asked. There was more rustling - likely her putting everything away - before she tapped Ignis’s arm.

“Prompto’s imaginary paramour,” Ignis said, his fingers finding her elbow once more. Behind them, he heard Gladiolus snort.

“Imaginary?” Prompto balked. “You’ve talked to her - _in person_ \- like a million times!”

“Perhaps not _quite_ so many,” Ignis replied with a small smirk. “By ‘imaginary,’ I was referring to her status as your better half, not the existence of her person.”

“Yeah, well...just gotta get her to notice me, ya know?” Ignis was fairly certain she _had_ noticed all of Prompto’s sputtering and blushing, but was simply too kind and too busy to call him on it. “Like, getting her a sweet present. Right, Val? Iris?”

“Maybe flowers,” Iris said skeptically. “Not...whatever-meters.”

“Oh, no. Not the Grease-monkey Goddess,” Prompto said, his tone reverent. Valeria concealed her laughter about as poorly as Ignis did.

After a cough, she said, “Well, I’m afraid it’s not mine, or I’d just give it to you after this. I’m sure she’d be happy with any sort of gift, though.”

“R-really?” And there Prompto went with the sputtering again.

“Sure,” Valeria said. “Who doesn’t like presents?” Ignis thought she was underestimating not only Prompto’s desperation when it came to the opposite sex, but his capacity to take things literally.

As they walked between the buildings, looking for more lines for Valeria to measure, Ignis’s mind drifted back to when he was here previously, with Noctis. It was ironic, perhaps, that he felt so much more in control and level-headed during this venture, now that the world had turned upside down and the person he’d dedicated his life to was missing.

Ignis had accepted that Noctis was beyond his reach. He’d accepted that his sight wasn’t coming back. But, at that time, during their first expedition to Fort Vaullerey, he had been unable to accept that the woman he loved was suffering and in danger, and there was nothing he could do to help her. That discord had festered inside of him like a wound, poisoning him slowly, filling him with anger and a directionless sense of urgency. Ignis didn’t regret torturing and wounding that Imperial commander, but he did think that, looking back on it, he never wanted to be in spot where he lost control like that ever again.

“Woah!” Iris’s footsteps skidded to a halt.

“It’s blood,” Valeria said to Ignis. “A lot. Looks like...whoever was hurt here was dragged into the building up ahead.”

“Not creepy at all,” Prompto muttered behind them.

“How fresh is the blood?” Ignis asked.

“Um...it’s dry,” Valeria replied uncertainly. “Is there more to it than that?” _Yes_ , Ignis thought. He didn’t particularly want to explain to her how he knew that.

“Maybe a week,” Gladiolus said. “Maybe more. We gotta go in there and check it out.”

Prompto groaned as Valeria went rigid.

“We can stay outside,” Ignis said to her.

“No,” she whispered. “We should...we should help.” Ignis smiled in response, hoping that she understood that it meant he would keep her safe, that he was proud of her for being so brave.

“Don’t even think about it, Gladdy,” Iris stated. “I’m not staying behind.” Gladio’s sigh indicated that he had been thinking precisely that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But everybody needs to be on guard. Just because that blood’s old, doesn’t mean whatever caused it took off.”

“It didn’t attack the Hunters when they broke down the gate,” Prompto said, his voice skittish. “So, that’s a good sign, right? Right?”

 _No_ , Ignis thought. _That only indicates that it’s not stupid enough to ambush a group of men with motor vehicles and power tools_.

He felt the familiar sensation of Gladiolus and Prompto summoning their weapons as the group, he assumed, followed the trail of blood. With both his hands occupied, Ignis was unable to follow suit, but that was fine; his cane was sturdy enough to deflect a blow, and he’d rather have a firm grip on Valeria if something attacked, to move her behind him and out of harm’s way. She hadn’t asked him to come with her here so she could watch him attempt to fight.

The door to the building creaked open, and a few seconds later, Gladiolus whispered, “Entry’s clear.” The group followed him inside, Prompto easing the door shut behind them.

“Looks like some kind of storage,” Valeria said to Ignis, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if they others could even hear her. “Stacked crates on your left, almost all the way to the ceiling.”

Ignis strained his ears, listening to the echoes of their footsteps travel up to the high ceiling. It was likely a hangar of some sort, that the Imperials had converted to another use.

And there was a strange odor that he couldn’t quite place. It was certainly not the musty smell of a disused building, nor the stink of rotting flesh, but something more astringent, almost medical.

“Is there still blood?” He asked. If there was, it was not only dry, but soaked into the floor, as he felt no stickiness underfoot.

“Yes,” Valeria whispered. “There’s a clear trail.” Prompto whimpered.

“Can you hear that?” Ignis asked.

“What?” Iris and Valeria almost spoke in unison.

“Nothing,” Ignis said. “Absolutely nothing. No vermin, no insects, nothing. A week-old corpse ought to have this entire place infested.”

“They’re...” Valeria sighed. “Those things might be dead too.”

“ _Reaaally_ not creepy,” Prompto whined.

“Hush, Prompto,” Ignis chided over his shoulder.

“Come on, dude,” Prompto said, bouncing from one foot to the other. “You know how I get.”

“Indeed I do.” And this was absolutely not the time for it. More quietly, in Valeria’s ear, Ignis said, “Pay him no mind.”

“Everybody, hold up,” Gladiolus said. “I’m gonna check this out.”

“Wait, Gladdy-”

“I said _wait_ , Iris,” Gladio snapped. “Listen to me.”

“They used the crates to make form kind of corridor where we came in,” Valeria explained to Ignis. “We’re at the corner now.”

Ignis listened as Gladiolus crept forward alone, his size impeding him from ever moving silently. His footsteps slowed, then halted, as he muttered, “Gods dammit.” A moment later, his voice rose. “Guys, get in here.”

Ignis marked the chorus of reactions from his comrades as each turned the corner into what seemed to be open space. Iris gasped and shrieked, “Oh my Gods...w-what is this, Gladdy?” Valeria froze momentarily, then let out a heavy sigh along with a swear word. And Prompto groaned, lamenting an “Oh, _no_...”

“They were doing experiments here,” Valeria said, probably as much to Iris as to Ignis. Her voice was laced with anger. “Just like they did in Insomnia.”

“Insomnia?” That gave Ignis pause. “You never told me about this sort of thing happening in Insomnia.”

“It’s not exactly pleasant dinner conversation,” Valeria replied.

“We saw it too,” Prompto said quietly. “In Zegnautus. Gods, it’s so horrible.”

“Guess whatever was in these cages got out,” Gladiolus said, as Ignis heard the sound of metal hinges screaming. “Turned on ‘em.” _Ironic_ , Ignis thought.

“Experiments?” Poor Iris, the only one of their group not to have seen something like this before, was breathing in quick gasps, her voice an octave higher than normal. “What...what experiments? This is...oh, _Gods_.”

“Daemons,” Valeria explained. “I don’t really know what they were trying to discover, and, honestly, I don’t care. It’s _wrong_. And if they got killed by those things, then...then maybe they deserved it.”

Ignis could only nod his head in agreement with her assessment. Perhaps it was cold, but it was true.

“Iris,” Gladio said, his usually gruff tone more gentle, “Go wait outside. Prompto, go with her.”

“No problem,” Prompto said, but at the same time, Iris stomped her foot.

“No, Gladdy...I...I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You don’t need to see crap like this,” Gladio snarled.

“Y-yes, yes I do,” Iris retorted. “Even if it’s awful, I...I don’t want to live in a bubble, okay? I want to help.”

Gladiolus had begun to respond when Ignis interrupted him. “Outside. Hmm...”

“What?” Valeria asked.

“Were there marks on the door when we came in?” Ignis asked. “Scratches or dents, that sort of thing.”

“No,” Valeria said. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s up, Iggy?” Prompto asked.

“I think we’ve been following the blood trail backwards. Its origin is here, and it _ended_ outside.”

“But then...” Prompto began to fidget. “Where’s the body?”

“There was nothing outside,” Valeria added. “Not even bones. Just a splotch of blood on the ground.”

“Yes,” Ignis mused. “It’s troubling, isn’t it? And I’m afraid I don’t have the answer. But, I’d wager that if you checked the inside of that door, you’d find evidence that a daemon forced it open.”

Prompto took off without being asked, and moments later there was a shout from that end of the building.

“There’s scratches!” he called. “Damn, Iggy. You’re good,” Prompto said when he returned. “But what’s it mean, exactly? That daemons dragged that guy outside and swallowed him whole?”

Ignis frowned. “I shouldn’t like to meet one capable of that.” But, they still had more of the Fort to explore.

* * *

 

“That should be it for me,” Valeria announced, tucking away her notebook, now filled with notes and numbers. “Only thing left to clear is this central building.”

Their exploration had yielded more blood and more unanswered questions. Just what had happened here? And where were the things that had done it?

Gladiolus pushed aside the large double doors to the structure, and it was obvious right away that it was the main hangar, three times as large as the one where the Niffs had been conducting their hideous experiments. Valeria swept the massive space with her flashlight. An Imperial mech lay toppled over on its side, while another was scattered in a dozen pieces strewn across the hangar floor, like toys abandoned by a petulant child.

Ignis’s grip on her arm tightened, and then he suddenly jerked her backwards, behind him, just as the stink of sulphur filled her nostrils.

“No,” Valeria whispered. Beams of light darted about the room wildly, illuminating glimpses of gnarled hands, razor claws and teeth coming out of the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everywhere.

“No, no, no,” Valeria repeated, backing away. _Not again_. _Not here_. _Not with **them**_.

“Look alive, everyone,” Gladiolus shouted, greatsword materializing over his shoulder. “We’ve got company!”

“A lot of company!” Prompto’s voice was high with panic, but he stood his ground, gun in hand.

“Val.” Ignis’s voice was commanding, but calm. Valeria continued to backpedal until she was out of his reach, until her back collided with the door they’d come through. _Not him. Please, not him_. “Just stay down,” Ignis instructed, steel glinting in his right hand.

Rather than swarming the group, the daemons rushed toward one another, colliding violently. But instead of knocking one another out, they stuck together, congealing into a twisted mass of limbs and teeth. Dozens of black eyes, large and small, peered out from the misshapen heap, blinking and rolling.

“What the hell are they doing?” Gladiolus stopped his charge, staring up at the rapidly expanding entity.

“What is it? What’s happening?” There was an edge of desperation in Ignis’s voice, but it wasn’t enough to break Valeria’s fear-induced stupor. She wanted to run to him, to tell him what was going on, to _help_ him, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and her limbs were rooted to the ground.

“The daemons... they’re _merging?_ ” Iris said uncertainly.

“Into a super daemon!” Prompto shrieked.

“Iris, get the hell out of here,” Gladiolus barked.

“And let you have all the fun? No way, Gladdy.” Iris drew her slender sword and ran alongside her brother.

“Dammit, Iris. This isn’t a game.” Gladio waved his sword overhead and sprinted for the far side of the hangar. “Hey! Ugly!” he yelled. “Over here!” It wasn’t clear whether the amalgamation had a ‘front’ or ‘back,’ but it seemed to track Gladiolus as he intended.

“Keep the light on it, Val!” Prompto shouted before diving into the fray.

Valeria didn’t want to look, didn’t want to watch as the daemons stole her friends away, as the daemons once again left her all alone. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to bolt, to run, to _survive_. But she remained where she was, cowering against the wall, flashlight beam trained on the horror before them.

Gladiolus hacked at the limbs protruding from the mass, eliciting dozens of screeches in unison. Iris seemed to partially heed her brother’s advice, staying on the thing’s flank, slashing it with a fierce cry. Prompto ran around it in a large circle, launching a volley of shots, probing for a weak point.

And Ignis. Poor Ignis. He was hardly like the blind monk one might read about in stories. He made his way forward slowly, hand outstretched, nearly stumbling over debris from the broken mech strewn about the floor. _Help him_ . _Help him, you stupid, useless girl_. But she couldn’t. Valeria knew if she opened her mouth, the only thing that would come out was a scream; if she took a single step, she’d only run away.

Ignis eventually made his way to the monster, driving his dagger in and out of its garbled flesh mercilessly. A long, grey arm protruding from the mass swatted him away like a doll. Valeria nearly did scream then, but Ignis pushed himself up to hands and knees, then back on his feet.

“Uh, guys?” Prompto shouted above the thing’s howling. “It’s doing something weird!”

Whole sections of the monster began to rotate, independent from the rest, swapping out broken, bloodied limbs for fresh ones.

“It’s...regenerating?” Ignis ventured, bringing his cane up in a defensive stance.

“Something like that!” Iris tossed a potion to her brother. Gladio pulled the stopper out with his teeth and drank, then began to hack at the creature once more with renewed vigor.

 _Do something_ , Valeria told herself. Even with potions, their stamina couldn’t last forever. _Do something or you’ll be left all alone_. But what could she do? She couldn’t fight; she didn’t even have any weapons.

 _Wait_. The flare gun Prompto had given her. Valeria could feel it in her pocket, pressing against her thigh. She saw Ignis get knocked down again, and something finally snapped inside her. Then the flashlight was between her knees, shells loaded with trembling fingers.

Valeria held her breath as she took aim, knowing that if she allowed herself time to think about it, she’d chicken out. Targeting a large, grotesque eye near the top of the mass, she pulled the trigger. Smoke arced through the air and white light filled the hangar, bright as day. The monster thrashed and screamed. And then, around the spot where the flare was embedded, individual daemons began to tumble down, like a snake sloughing its skin.

Gladiolus shouted at her to shoot it again. Valeria was still shaking, still terrified, but she took aim at the opposite end of the mass, the flare’s light dismantling it further. Gladio cut down what was left, while the others easily finished off the individual daemons that had spilled free, bodies already crumpled and broken from being mashed together.

Valeria didn’t realize it was over, not when Iris and Prompto sang her praises, not when Gladio gave her a celebratory pat on the back.

“You good, Ignis?” Prompto ran over to help him make his way through all the dead creatures slowly dissolving on the floor.

“Well done, Valeria! Well done.” Ignis put his hand that wasn't covered in oily, black daemon blood on her shoulder, pulling her into an awkward half-embrace.

“A-are you h-hurt?” Valeria’s teeth were still chattering, her body still on high alert.

“Ah. Nothing serious,” he said dismissively. “Hey. It’s alright.” Ignis touched her arm and Valeria swallowed hard, nausea welling within her.

“I...I have to...I need some air,” Valeria announced, pushing Ignis away. She turned and slid the hangar door open just wide enough to slip through, then stumbled away from the building as everything hit her at once, wild terror seizing her heart and guts.

Valeria fell to her knees and vomited. It came in several waves, until her stomach was empty, as hollow as she felt. She remained on all fours on the cold concrete, hands and knees quaking in unison. _I don’t want to die_. _I don’t want to die_.

She lifted her head to see her petrified face staring back at her from a darkened window. Her own reflection scared her - skin as ashen as the concrete below, eyes wide and dilated like a cornered animal. It was just like she was back on the road, in the dark and all alone...

“No,” she told the terrified woman in the glass, watching her neck muscles clench as she swallowed. _You don’t have to go back there_. Ignis and the others made it look so easy, like they weren’t afraid at all. They would think her ridiculous, a coward, if they knew just how _frightened_ she was by the things in the dark.

There was a sound behind her and Valeria spun around, a vise grip on her flashlight. It was Ignis.

“Valeria?” His head drifted from side to side, as if he was unaware of her location. Unbidden, a whimper escaped her throat. Ignis immediately turned toward her, moving quickly. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

“No!” Valeria’s hand shot out, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t... Just stay there. Please.” The idea of him stepping in her vomit was too humiliating to contemplate.

Ignis paused, his brows knit into a deep frown. “Talk to me,” he said. “I implore you.”

Valeria tried to rise, but her legs were shaking too badly. Could he _smell_ that she’d been sick? Ignis was so strong, facing down MTs and daemons _blind_ , and here she was throwing up over a little fright. _You’re weak_. The voice in her head sounded a lot like her mother’s.

“It just scared me,” she whispered.

“Well, of course it did.” In the glass, she watched Ignis take a slow step forward. “It frightened me as well,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be ashamed of that.”

“I just...” Valeria wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I’m not like you. This sort of thing...” _I don’t want to go back there_. She hadn’t realized just how badly her entire body was trembling until Ignis reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Iggy!” It was Gladio’s voice, coming from somewhere behind them.

“You three go on ahead,” Ignis called back. “We’ll meet you at the gate.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Here.” For a moment, when his hand was gone from her shoulder, Valeria felt as if he would crumple to the ground, like he was the only thing holding her upright at all. Then one of those flat, pocket flasks was dangling next to her ear. “It’s water,” Ignis clarified.

Valeria took it gratefully, swishing the water around to rinse her palate before spitting it out. “Sorry.” Gods, she felt not only cowardly, but disgusting.

In the window, she saw Ignis’s reflection shake his head dismissively. He exchanged his handkerchief for the flask, and Valeria wiped her mouth once more, along with the tears she hadn’t realized had sprung from her eyes. Ignis’s hand was then under her armpit, hauling her back to her feet.

“Everything’s alright,” he said for the thousandth time as he spun her to face him. “The danger’s passed now.”

Valeria wiped her nose, trying to stem her pathetic sniffling. “I’m sorry I left you.” Once more, Ignis dismissed her apology with a shake of his head. Valeria reached out, wiping away a bit of daemon blood on his cheek with her thumb.

“Shall we go wash up?” he asked with a smile.

Back at the gate, Ignis and the others cleaned themselves the best they could in a basin out of the back of a Hunter’s truck. Valeria sat on an overturned cooler beneath one of the floodlights, listening to Iris excitedly recount the details of her first real battle with daemons to one of her Hunter friends. Gladiolus, Ignis and Prompto set about pitching their camping tent (which really just amounted to Gladiolus doing the lion’s share of the work, Ignis holding things, and Prompto playing with the tent poles), when one of the Hunters stopped by.

“I got some space in the bed of my truck,” he offered. “Can probably sleep two of yas.”

“Then that would be us,” Ignis said. Prompto whistled, while Gladio merely grunted and muttered, “whatever” before resuming his work. Neither bothered to ask whom the ‘us’ was referring to. Valeria didn’t particularly want to stay here any longer than necessary, and doubted she’d be able to sleep anyway, but figured if she had to lie awake and afraid for the next six hours, a truck bed would be marginally more comfortable than the concrete.

Valeria remained rooted to her seat even as blankets were distributed and sleeping bags rolled out. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she felt as if she were made of jelly, if she tried to stand she’d crumple like a baby deer. Ignis must have surmised this, as he went to fetch her after the others had said their goodnights and zipped the tent flap closed behind them.

“Before we go to sleep, I’d like a moment,” he requested, then began feeling around in front of him.

“Right here, Iggy.” Valeria slid over and patted the empty space on the cooler next to her, producing a hollow _thunk_.

“Ah, thank you.” Ignis’s hand connected with it and he took a seat. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “Please.” She could hardly refuse such an earnest, imploring look on his face.

“I told you. I was scared,” she said quietly. “That’s all.”

“Valeria.” Ignis’s voice was stern, but not unkind. “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. And I...I want to help you. Desperately.”

“I...I can still hear it,” she whispered. Her eyes were looking beyond Ignis, not at a their makeshift camp, but the jagged walls of an abandoned, burnt-out farmhouse, lit by a single flashlight, its bulb dim and flickering. They could do nothing but huddle around it when they heard the daemons coming, coming for _them_ , do nothing but watch as faces were ripped from the circle one by one. Screaming and begging, gurgling, then silence. When she felt slimy, talon-like fingers on her back, she turned and ran, ran into the dark desert toward the moon, ran until her legs gave out and she was alone on the ground, thinking every sound in the distance was a prelude to her demise.

And so it went. She would eventually manage to find another rag-tag group, and the daemons would eventually manage to find them, and then she was alone once more.

By the time she had managed to choke out her story, she was crying, shaking all over, and Ignis had his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair.

“You’re not alone,” he said over and over, holding her close. When her tears finally began to ebb, he said, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I brought _you_ here,” Valeria corrected him with a sniffle, still clinging to Ignis’s chest. “And, I...I have to face this. If this is the world we live in now...” Just the thought made her shudder.

“That’s very brave.” Was he making fun of her? She looked up to see him smiling, not in a cruel way, but almost like he was proud.

“I feel like a coward,” she whispered.

Ignis shook his head. “Nonsense. Cowards don’t face their fears.”

Valeria sighed. She didn’t feel brave at all. But she did feel better, like the yoke of all her awful memories had finally loosened from her neck.

They stayed like that, clutching one another, for a  long time, until she finally felt exhaustion rapidly setting in. Reluctantly, she broke their embrace, walking Ignis over to the truck and placing his hand on the tailgate.

“Can we go to sleep now?” she asked.

“Indeed.” He grabbed the handle, but stopped before pulling it open. “Thank you for confiding in me. Now, my lady.” Ignis made an over-exaggerated bow and pulled the tailgate down, then offered her his hand. “Your chariot awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you're really going to like the next chapter...hopefully it doesn't take me 3 weeks to write ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is (relatively) shorter than the last few and sweet. I hope you enjoy it :3

Ignis, Valeria and Prompto had crammed into the back of a Hunter’s car and began the drive back to Lestallum proper. Gladiolus had seemed in better spirits before they left, but elected to stay behind for another day with Iris to hunt down any daemons remaining in the vicinity of the new settlement.

Prompto was as fidgety as ever, and between them Valeria sat, dozing with her head on Ignis’s shoulder. He knew she hadn’t slept at all after the daemon attack, in spite of him holding her close and assuring her she was safe. But why would she feel safe with him? He could barely defend himself.

 _Quiet, you_ , he said to that pesky voice in his head. He was no good to anyone if he doubted himself.

Ignis had barely slept himself, the horror story Valeria had told him playing on repeat in his mind. He knew it was dangerous outside the city, but he now realized just how very little he truly understood the enormity of it, the primal terror. _I won’t let it happen again_. He may have barely been able to fight worth a damn, but he _would_ keep her safe. Somehow.

Quelling a sigh, Ignis turned toward the window. He couldn’t see out of it, of course - only tell that it was impossibly dark, filled with nothing but monsters and the dead. A small, selfish part of him was relieved he didn’t have to look at it - hearing the stories, the screams, was illustrative enough.

Next to them, Prompto sounded like he was rifling through his bag. Then there was the unmistakable sound of his camera shutter clicking, and Ignis felt compelled to open his mouth.

“Not now, Prompto,” he said. “Please.”

“Heh...” Prompto let out a breathy laugh, like a child caught drawing on the walls. “Uh... How’d you know I wasn’t taking a shot outside?”

“Because there’s nothing to photograph outside.”

Prompto gave a weary sigh. “That’s for sure. How long do you really think we can go on like this?”

Ignis would have shrugged, but he didn’t want to wake Valeria. “As long as we have to, I suppose.”

“Noct’s gonna come back.” Prompto sounded like he was talking to himself. “And then everything’s gonna be like it was.”

 _If only it were that simple_. Ignis didn’t have the heart to disabuse Prompto of his hope. Noctis _would_ return, and together, they _would_ bring back the Dawn - Ignis was every bit as certain of that as Prompto - but things would never be as they were.

For starters, his eyesight wasn’t coming back. Ignis pushed that particular thought away, not wanting to dwell on it. It wasn’t like it was all bad. The Empire was crumbling; that was problematic in the short-term, but in the grand scheme of things, it meant people no longer had to live in fear of their aggressive expansion and frightening technology. In the best case, Magitek would become a historical footnote, a cautionary tale of ambition and hubris.

And then there was _her_. Ignis knew he would have his hands full advising a new, young King, but after having Valeria around for the better part of several months, he knew he couldn’t just go back to how it was - keeping their distance, words unsaid, feelings pushed aside. He _needed_ this, needed _her_ , in a way that was startling, bewildering, and exhilarating.

Perhaps she could take a position within the Citadel. The new King would need to appoint his own Council filled with Lucian citizens of varying areas of expertise. And though she may have been young, Valeria’s business acumen was second to none.

Of course, Valeria might not even want to work for the Crown. The first time Noctis yawned during an important meeting, things would get very dark indeed. Ignis recalled how she used to call out fellow students whenever they would fall asleep or act disruptive during class, and it was in such a sharp, witty manner that he had to bury his head in one of his books to conceal his laughter. The memory made him chuckle even now.

“You look happy,” Prompto said. Then his voice turned sing-songy. “I bet I know why...”

The mere insinuation that Ignis would be intimate with her in the back of a stranger’s truck, like some rest stop harlot, caused him to roll his right eye, which caused an aching pain in his left. He’d noticed that happening whenever he made some quick or sharp movement on his right, like his left side was trying to mirror the movement in spite of all the damage and scar tissue.

Ignis tried to disguise massaging the pain away by fiddling with his sunglasses. “Prompto, you and I both know that _you_ know very little.”

“Huh?”

 _My point exactly_. “In other words, mind your own affairs.”

“Oh.” Prompto laughed, but cut it off when the car began to slow down.

“What is it?” Ignis asked.

“Looks like...a truck tipped over in the middle of the road,” Prompto explained. “We should still be able to get around it.”

But the car rolled to a stop. “We’re gonna check out the cargo,” one of the Hunters in the front said.

“Might as well,” Prompto said, opening his door. “And we should check on the driver. You coming?”

Ignis shook his head. His legs, wedged against the back of the passenger seat, were beginning to cramp and the bumps and bruises he'd received in the battle the night prior throbbed in earnest, but he couldn’t imagine he’d be much help with the search. And he didn’t want to disturb Valeria.

Prompto shut his door gently, but the driver and his partner slammed theirs closed, waking her anyway.

“What...?” Her voice was groggy with sleep. “Why did we stop?”

“Just a quick search of an overturned truck.” They’d left the engine running, and Ignis was fairly certain the headlights were still on, so he wasn’t particularly concerned for their safety, but he rolled down the window to keep an ear out, just in case.

“With any luck, there will be a large shipment of Ebony inside.” He smiled, hoping to keep her calm.

“Ebony would be nice.” Valeria’s tone was even, but the tensing of her muscles betrayed her true feelings. He could tell the detour had put her on edge, and could tell she didn’t want him to know. Why was she so keen on hiding her fear? After what she’d been through, he would have been far more concerned if she _weren’t_ afraid.

“Regardless, we’ll have some coffee when we get back.” Ignis patted her knee.

Without a word, Prompto opened the door and climbed back inside. In fact, Ignis only knew it was Prompto because he was so much smaller than the two Hunters who accompanied them.

“Any sign of the driver?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah.” Prompto exhaled sharply. “The bottom half of him was still buckled in the driver’s seat.”

“Bloody hell,” Ignis muttered. He thought such an announcement would have sent Valeria into a tailspin, but she remained quiet at his side. Just what sort of horrors had she seen for such a thing to barely elicit a reaction from her?

“Prompto, are you alright?” Ignis asked.

“I think I would like to go home now,” Prompto replied, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and small.

“Indeed.” Ignis turned and poked his head out of the window. “Lads?” he called out. “Perhaps we should get back on the road? We don’t want the Marshal to send out a search party.”

One of the Hunters replied that they were on their way, and much to everyone’s relief, after depositing a few items in the trunk, the car was back on the road, leaving the truck and its unfortunate driver behind.

Valeria didn’t fall back asleep, but she did seem to relax once they were moving. The rest of the drive passed without incident until they neared the tunnel that lead into Lestallum. EXINERIS had erected a gate at the city-facing end of the tunnel, initially just to keep daemons out, but these days it functioned more like an immigration stopgap, letting only Lucians pass through. The remaining length of the tunnel had become the refugee camp for those unable to get in the city - relatively safe from daemons, but no proper way to live.

As the car slowed to a crawl, Ignis and the others locked the doors and ensured the windows were rolled up tight. Almost immediately the shouts and insults started, from pleas to help the sick, young or injured get inside, to downright filthy, despicable curses. _Can’t you fools see there’s a lady in the vehicle?_

“Gods damned Niffs,” the driver muttered as he laid on the horn. Prompto had gone so still and so quiet Ignis could no longer tell he was there.

“It’s a lot worse than it was yesterday,” Valeria said.

“I suspect they take more issue with people getting _in_ the city as opposed to leaving it,” Ignis said.

Then _things_ began to hit the car along with the angry words. _Thumps_ and _bumps_ along the body of the vehicle and stuff going _splat_ against the windows and windshield. Nothing sounded substantial enough to cause any real damage, but that didn’t make it any less troubling. The sooner they got through this mess, the better.

Valeria gasped. “Is that...?” She made a noise of abject disgust.

Ignis was about to ask her what she was talking about, but then he smelled it. The unmistakable stink of excrement. He sincerely hoped it had come from someone’s pet.

“Fucking animals,” the Hunter in the passenger seat cursed. _This is what happens when you treat people like they’re subhuman_. Ignis only hoped that things would improve for everyone once they moved the refugees to the Fort; otherwise it seemed likely that serious violence would erupt if things carried on as they were much longer.

“ID’s,” the man in the passenger seat barked. Ignis removed his from his pocket and handed it to Valeria, who passed their things forward.

After making it through the veritable gauntlet and finally reaching the gate, the driver presented their documents to the guards - the man didn’t roll down the window, so Ignis thought he must have simply pressed their identification against the glass.

“Pop the trunk,” the guard demanded, his voice slightly muffled.

“What?” the driver opened the window a crack, letting in the nauseating stink of hundreds of people living crammed in a tunnel with no sanitation. Ignis quickly removed his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to Valeria to cover her face; he covered his own nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Pop the trunk,” the guard said again. He sounded neither friendly nor patient.

“What the hell is this?” the driver growled.

“Just do it so we can get out of here,” the other Hunter said.

The driver finally complied with a grumble, and Ignis assumed that the guards were checking for stowaways as he heard several people rooting around in the back of the car.

“Hey!” the passenger shouted, rolling down his window. “That’s our stuff!”

Ignis frowned as Valeria twisted in her seat. “I think they’re confiscating the cargo from the trunk,” she said to him.

“Now, we got two Crownsguard back here,” the driver said to the guards. Ignis wasn’t sure that was going to help their case. “Ya’ll can’t just take whatever you please.”

“Actually, we can,” the guard said matter-of-factly. “New mandate from on high. You got a problem with it, you can take it up with the bosses.” EXINERIS. Given what they had just driven through, allowing them to loot was probably the only way to keep any of the guardsmen from flat out quitting their posts.

“Hey.” Valeria leaned forward toward the front of the car. “EXINERIS _sent_ me out there. We’re working with them too.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problems complaining to ‘em. Go on through.”

The gate jerked open with an angry whine, and the shouts of the refugees behind them redoubled. The Hunters let out a string of curses, but fortunately did as instructed and drove through the gate before one of the guards got annoyed and shut it on them.

The streets inside the city were choked with people too, but they moved aside with minimal prodding for a car, particularly one covered in filth. When they arrived at Hunter HQ, Valeria advised Ignis not to touch the door as they exited the vehicle; apparently she kicked it shut and then scuffed the sole of her shoe on the pavement to remove anything it might have touched. The Hunters returned their identification documents and left without so much as a goodbye, probably heading directly to the Marshal to complain. _What a bloody mess_ , Ignis thought.

“Join us for dinner tonight, Prompto,” he said. Prompto hadn’t uttered a word since they’d entered that tunnel. Ignis understood what was bothering him, of course, but could hardly discuss it in front of Valeria and the others.

“Oh, uh...” Prompto shuffled his feet.

“Come, now,” Ignis implored. “I need you to explain to Valeria here that I used to be able to do a lot better than burnt steak.”

“Oh my Gods, Iggy.” Valeria made an exasperated noise. “It wasn’t even burnt, Prompto. It was _slightly_ overdone, and he was acting like it was ruined.”

“If the meat’s overdone, the meal _is_ ruined,” Ignis explained. Why was this such a hard concept to grasp?

“See, _this_ is why you need to come to dinner,” Valeria said to Prompto. “To tell Iggy that he’s being ridiculous.”

“Ah, well...” In spite of himself, Prompto chuckled. “I guess I can’t say no, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” Ignis said, already taking mental inventory of what ingredients he had at home and what he could make that wouldn’t end in a complete disaster.

 

* * *

 

After returning from Fort Vaullerey, Valeria submitted her calculations to Silvia Fontaine and, much to her relief, EXINERIS sent their own people (under the Hunters’ protection) to work on extending the power lines to the new settlement. Aside from their continued supervision of the citywide rationing to ensure that everyone was fed, Ignis and Valeria found themselves with a wealth of free time, something neither of them really knew what to do with.

And, given the state of Lestallum and the outside world, it wasn’t as if the city was teeming with a plethora of social activities either. Most afternoons, they sat in Ignis’s apartment, listening to repeats of radio serials they must have already heard at least half a dozen times.

“I don’t mean to sound unappreciative,” Ignis said from where he sat on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. “But I do wish the person running this station would find some new material.”

“There’s always your radio show.” Valeria sat behind him at the kitchen table, staring down at the pack of playing cards she’d picked up secondhand in the market.

Ignis snorted. “Hardly.”

Valeria pulled a single card from the pack, turning it every which way in her hands, trying to determine some way of making the suit and face discernible to Ignis’s fingertips without making that information visible to his opponent. Cheating took all the fun out of a good card game, after all.

She sighed and returned the card to the deck. “Is this what it’s like to be bored?”

“Bloody awful, isn’t it?” Ignis rubbed a hand over his face. “Once, I was forced to stand by while Noct played pinball at a rest stop for _four hours_. I am eternally grateful that the establishment’s owner forced us to leave.”

Valeria tucked the card pack into her pants pocket, then crossed the small space to join Ignis on the couch. He had two fingers beneath his sunglasses, massaging his badly-scarred left eye.

“Does it hurt?”

He quickly pulled his hand away. “Ah. It’s nothing.”

Valeria frowned and repeated her question. “Does it hurt?”

Ignis sighed and resumed rubbing his face. “From time to time. Please...please don’t fuss.”

Valeria crossed her arms and sat down, shifting toward him. “I’m not going to ‘fuss.’ I just want to know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Don't trouble yourself. It will pass.” Ignis gave her a wan smile. “At any rate, the pain is nothing like it was.”

Valeria exhaled. “I can’t imagine,” she whispered. “It hurt so badly when my eye-” She stopped herself with a small gasp and a hand over her mouth. _He doesn’t need to know about that_.  

But it was too late. Ignis straightened in his seat, his hand immediately dropping away from his face. “What? What happened to your eye?”

She briefly contemplated a lie, but she didn’t want to be dishonest with Ignis, even when she knew the truth was going to upset him.

“I, um... It’s fine, now. But, there was an Imperial officer who, uh...interrogated me, and...” She grabbed Ignis’s hand, placing his fingers along the small, slender line that sat across her cheekbone beneath her right eye. It was a fraction of the depth of even the least of his scars, but she saw his eyebrows shoot up above his glasses and felt his fingers freeze on her cheek.

“They...they _assaulted_ you. Why... When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Valeria grimaced, knowing he could feel it with his hand on her face. “It happened when you were in Altissia,” she said. “Then you were hurt, and the Prince was ill, and... I don’t know. It just didn’t come up after.”

He looked every bit as upset as she had expected. Ignis, who had been blinded by the Empire, had his chest heaving and his fist curled because the Niffs had smacked her around a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. Noct was playing bloody pinball while you were being hurt, and I...I...”

Valeria grabbed his face with both her hands. “Stop it. Just stop it, Iggy. You were doing your job.”

Ignis leaned into her palms. “I cannot countenance someone laying their hands upon you. I _can’t_.”

As she looked at him, saying these terribly valiant things, Valeria felt her chest swell, her heart flutter. “It’s okay now, Iggy,” she said, gently running her fingers over the scar bisecting the bridge of his nose. “Everything’s okay now.”

Ignis sucked in a ragged breath. His hand, slightly trembling, reached up and doffed his dark glasses, giving Valeria her first good look at his face since he’d been injured. Rather than scrutinize it, force him to sit in agonizing silence while she stared, she immediately pulled him into a tight hug. What he looked like didn’t matter. But that he felt safe enough to share that with her - that meant _everything_.

She held him until he stopped shaking, until that initial wave of self-consciousness had passed. Then she sat back as Ignis kept a hand on her shoulder, their knees still touching.

Only his right eye was open, the sea green of his iris now covered by a haze of blue-gray. It reminded her of the layer of morning frost that used to gather on her apartment bedroom window during the winter; if only she could reach up and wipe it away.

Valeria raised a hand to touch the large, dark, splatter-like scar over his left eye, but stopped herself, remembering that it was hurting him. “You can’t open it?” she asked.

“It’s difficult,” Ignis admitted. “And frankly, not worth the effort. I... I realize it must look odd.”

“No.” Valeria shook her head vehemently. “No, that’s not why... I was just asking.”

“I know.” The sadness of his smile made Valeria think he didn’t entirely believe her. How could she make him understand? Nothing had changed. He was still the man to whom she compared all others. His bravery in the face of suffering had only made him _more_ in her mind, not less.

“Ignis,” she said. “It’s your badge of honor. Wear it with pride.”

Ignis pulled her close once more, his forehead resting against hers. She felt his breath, thick and panting against her face, and for a moment she worried he was going to be upset again, but he just stayed there like that, like he was drinking in her presence.

Valeria knew her heart was racing, felt her own breathing hitch at their closeness. The gulf that had always existed between them had narrowed to a crevice, a crack in the pavement, and all she had to do was step over it.

She kissed him.

It was quick, the briefest brushing of her lips against his, but Valeria immediately jerked away, hand over her mouth.

_You’re weak._

_You need to find a man with a good family name._

_Romance is a waste of time._

“Oh, Gods, Iggy...” Valeria said through her fingers. Her cheeks felt as if they were melting. “I’m sorry, I-I-I...”

Ignis’s lips parted in surprise, then spread to form a broad smile. “I suppose that, at least this time, you didn’t run away.”

“Oh, _Gods_...” Valeria buried her entire face in her hands. She had done this once before, kissed him on the stoop of her mother’s townhouse after he had taken her out for dessert for her eighteenth birthday, his apology for being forced to miss her party. Before that, she had never kissed a boy. And after, well...none of them were Ignis.

“I ran up to my room and hid under the covers,” Valeria said, still feeling horribly embarrassed and afraid, and most of all, frustrated with herself for being so irrational.

“Did you think a monster was going to emerge from your closet and punish you?” Ignis asked. He was grinning at her now.

“You don’t know how scary my mom was.” She bit her lip. “Is...is this alright?”

“Does it feel alright to you? _You_ ,” Ignis added. “Not anyone else.”

Valeria swallowed. “Yes, I... This is...this is what I want.”

Ignis’s free hand roamed up to her face, gently urging her hands away. His thumb traced the gentle swell of her lips.

“And I...” He stopped, swallowed, took a deep breath, then began once more. “ _I_ want to kiss you again. Properly, this time.”

Their third kiss lasted far longer than the first and second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'FUCKING FINALLY' - my beta-reader.
> 
> I hope this chapter gave you as many feels to read it as it gave me to write.


	27. Chapter 27

The last week had passed as though Valeria was living in a dream; only the constant darkness, the poverty, and the rumbling in her stomach indicated otherwise. It didn’t matter. None of it did. After all these years, Ignis was _hers_ , and she was _his_ , and they were together in a way that she’d once thought impossible.

The unspoken tension that had always existed between them, that sadness for things that could never be, was gone, obliterated - replaced with a very juvenile awkwardness and embarrassment as they explored each others’ bodies and began to define just exactly what ‘ _together_ ’ meant for the pair of them.

For the next few hours, however, _together_ would have to wait - Cor Leonis had summoned them to his office so they could report the strange daemons they’d encountered at Fort Vaullerey to some scientist.

“She’s a bit eccentric,” Ignis had said of the researcher. “Well, perhaps more than a bit.”

Valeria and Ignis made the now-familiar journey to the high school-turned-Hunter HQ, and up the stairs to the second floor. In the corner outside the stairwell, Valeria spied Prompto chatting with a young woman in coveralls who seemed to hang on his every (numerous) word. As soon as he caught sight of them, he quickly said his goodbyes and fell into step with Ignis and Valeria.

“Was than Sandy? Wait, no...Cindy?” Valeria asked.

“Nah,” Prompto said. “Just a fellow chocobo enthusiast. Hey, we should start a fan club!” Prompto jabbed her with a pointy elbow. “What do you say?”

“Typically, I don’t think real-life animals have ‘fan’ clubs,” Ignis said.

“Well, then, we’ll be the first,” Prompto said.

Valeria gave him a bemused smile. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, hey.” Prompto paused to dig into his pockets. “Check it out!” Several brass cylinders sat atop his palm.

“Bullets?” Valeria asked.

“Yup!”

Valeria tilted her head. “Okay...”

“They’re not normal bullets. Look.” He held up one of the items in question. “ _Rubber_ bullets. For training. The Marshal says we can’t train with live rounds.”

“For good reason,” Ignis said under his breath.

Valeria wasn’t entirely sure what Prompto wanted from her. “That’s cool, I guess.”

Prompto tapped her on the arm. “Training for _you_. It’ll be fun, right?”

“Ah, that's a generous offer,” Ignis said.

“Oh, I...” Valeria frowned. “I don’t want to be a Hunter or anything.”

“I know,” Prompto chirped. “Just like, self-defense, that kinda thing.”

“Well...” Valeria looked between Ignis and Prompto, both offering her encouraging smiles. “Sure, I guess. Thanks.”

“Alright!” Prompto pumped his fist in the air. “Chocobo fan club meeting, then target practice. _Sweet_.”

Before Valeria could object, they were at the door of Cor Leonis’s office, and Prompto raised his hand.

“Knock, Prompto,” Ignis said.

“I was gonna!” Prompto said defensively. “Tell him, Val.”

“He was,” Valeria admitted.

“You’re learning,” Ignis replied. “Excellent.”

“‘ _You’re learning_ ,’” Prompto muttered under his breath, his attempt at Ignis’s accent almost laughably poor. After he made a loud show of knocking, Cor opened the door and let them in.

Ignis insisted Valeria take the only seat, electing to stand behind her chair, while Prompto leaned on the wall next to them.

“Is Gladio not here?” Ignis asked.

“He’s under the weather,” Cor replied with a frown. “According to Iris.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” Ignis said.

“Nothing Cup Noodles can’t cure, I bet,” Prompto replied.

The other occupant of the room was a woman wearing large glasses, her dark, frizzy hair tucked beneath a crumpled bucket hat. She was scribbling furiously on a torn piece of notebook paper, seemingly oblivious to the conversation around them - and Cor’s multiple attempts at clearing his throat.

When she finally set her pen down, she looked up and exclaimed, “Oh,” as if just now noticing their presence.

“Professor Sania Yeagre,” Cor announced.

“Formerly of Duscae University, currently head of the Daemon Research Department of Lestallum,” Sania added. She listed her credentials flatly, like one simply stating a fact, rather than a boast.

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a Daemon Research Department?”

“There will be,” Sania replied. “As soon as I get some research assistants. Speaking of, are you-”

“A pity, we’re all terribly busy,” Ignis quickly interjected. He then let out a small cough, as if to say, _trust me_.

So rather than question it further, Valeria rose offered her hand in greeting. “Valeria Soleil,” she said. “Former vice-president of a company that no longer exists.”

Sania merely acknowledged her with a nod, then her gaze slid between Ignis and Prompto. “So, that friend of yours really was the Prince. What a shame,” she lamented. “He was a great research assistant.”

“To the matter at hand,” Cor interjected, clearly eager to get this over with. “The daemons you encountered at Fort Vaullerey.”

“Yes,” Ignis said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Do you ever stop?” Prompto asked.

“About that encounter,” Ignis clarified. “I have a theory, if I may.” He told the story backwards, beginning with the daemon mass they’d fought in the hangar, and ending with the blood they’d found outside on the pavement.

“I believe that the daemons inside the building attacked that individual, then dragged him outside to share with their fellows. I’ve never seen something like that before.” Ignis rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “In the past, they gathered in groups, but it was never coordinated. And they certainly did not... _share_.”

“Coordination...” Sania muttered under her breath, her gaze a million miles away. “...assimilation...the groups...the virus...yes!” She slammed her hand down so hard on Cor’s desk that Valeria jumped. “It wasn’t sharing,” Sania said, like it was all suddenly, painfully obvious. “It was anabolism.”

“A-what-a-what now?” Prompto asked.

“The synthesis of a complex structure from simpler ones,” Sania said. “Yes, of course!”

“You’re saying the daemons took that person, not to kill or consume, but to...become one of them?” Ignis ventured. “That level of intelligence...”

“Is unprecedented.” Sania’s dark eyes were gleaming with excitement, entirely opposite of the horror that Valeria felt.

“Because of the Imperial experiments?” Cor asked.

“Maybe.” Sania shrugged. “Maybe it’s evolution. Adaptation. Fascinating, isn’t it?” _No_ , Valeria thought. _Not at all_. “Nature always finds a way to survive.”

“Nothing about daemons are natural,” Ignis said. “They’re a curse.”

Sania dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “That’s just religious hogwash. The Starscourge is like any other organism - its only objectives are to reproduce and survive. Hmm...” That faraway gleam was back in her eyes. Sania turned back to her notebook paper, and began to jot something down as she mumbled to herself.

After a loud cough, Ignis finally said, “Is there anything else you wish to ask?” Sania only acknowledged the question with a flick of her wrist.

“I think we are done here,” Valeria said to Ignis. The two of them and Prompto attempted to bid the scientist farewell, and then returned to the hallway.

“Hey, can I-” Prompto’s eyes darted between Ignis and Valeria. “Can I talk to you guys about something?”

“Of course, Prompto,” Ignis replied. Valeria nodded.

Prompto drew them both over to the same corner next to the stairs where Valeria had spotted him earlier; idly, she wondered if this spot was Prompto’s office.

“Iggy,” Prompto began, shifting from foot to foot. “The first time we were at the Fort - was that stuff there? The cages and...and the other stuff.”

“The experiments, you mean,” Ignis said.

“Yeah. Your memory’s better than mine, so...” Prompto’s big blue eyes were looking up at Ignis expectantly, almost pleading.

“No,” Ignis replied with a frown. “Such things were not present during our first foray into the Fort.”

“Dammit,” Prompto muttered. “Why though? Why now?”

Valeria nodded. “You’re right. Before the Darkness, all their research made sense - it was evil and cruel, but it made sense. They were trying to conquer Lucis. But now...what’s the point?”

Ignis idly tapped his cane against the floor as he considered her question. “Why, indeed. I believe there are two possibilities. The first,” he held up his index finger, “is that, Imperials being as they are, had orders to conduct their research prior to the Darkness, and simply continued with their tasks as they awaited further instructions.”

“Well, that’s definitely possible, knowing the Niffs,” Valeria said. “I don’t think they even take bathroom breaks without getting three forms of approval.”

Prompto laughed nervously as Ignis continued. “The second, and more troubling possibility,” he said as he raised his second finger alongside the first, “is that these are new orders. But from whom?”

“...Ardyn?” Prompto ventured, his mouth twisting in a snarl around the name.

“Ardyn?” Valeria interjected. “Who's that?”

“The Imperial Chancellor,” Ignis supplied, then shook his head. “And I don’t think so. If he wanted to rule, he could have easily seized power from the Emperor years ago. Everything about his behavior seems to indicate he prefers to work from the shadows and manipulate those in charge.”

“But the Emperor’s dead,” Prompto insisted. “And the...the h-head scientist, the High Commander-”

“Caligo Ulldor’s dead?” Valeria interjected. _Good riddance_ , she thought.

Prompto gave her a quizzical look. “No. Ravus was the High Commander.”

“Ulldor.” She felt Ignis’s grip tighten on her arm for just a second. “How do you know that name?”

“They...” Valeria closed her eyes, quelling the phantom feeling of pain erupting along the side of her face. “They said Lord Ravus got moved to some other position and Ulldor was in charge, back in Insomnia. They paraded him around on a stage and everything.” Valeria wanted to tell Ignis the whole truth - she really did - but not with Prompto there.

“Hmm.” Ignis furrowed his brows. “Well, I don’t know what’s become of Ulldor. But Lord Ravus is decidedly deceased.”

Valeria frowned. Ignis had been so certain that if they removed the men at the top, the Empire would crumble. It was one time where she hated being right.

“The Emperor was pretty old,” she said. “I’m sure he had children, maybe even grandchildren, nieces, nephews...”

“Imperial inheritance is not strictly patrilineal,” Ignis explained. “But your point still stands. There are certainly people still amongst the living who would be deemed fit to succeed the Emperor.”

“So the Empire’s still out there?” Prompto whispered, looking vaguely distraught. “Still trying to take over everything?”

“I said it was a possibility,” Ignis clarified, his voice gentle. “Don’t trouble yourself, Prompto. Whatever comes our way, we shall endure it.”

“I know, I...” Prompto looked down at the floor, scuffing the toe of his boot on the tile. “I just don’t want more people to die.”

“No one does,” Valeria offered, although there was a short list of exceptions she had to that statement, starting with one Caligo Ulldor.

“Shall we check in on Gladio on our way home?” Ignis asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

“Huh?” Prompto looked up. “Gladio? He’s probably just hungover.”

Ignis clucked his tongue. “I would expect he’s ailing with something more serious if it kept him from his duty.”

“Nah, dude. Have you tried the stuff he’s been drinking lately?” When Ignis shook his head, Prompto wrinkled his nose. “He tried to give me some last time I was over there. It smelled like the stuff you used to use to clean our wounds.”

“Oh, dear,” Ignis muttered. As the supply of legitimate liquor in the city rapidly dwindled, Valeria had heard of people improvising all sorts of questionable methods to produce alcohol; it wasn’t at all surprising that these ‘homebrews’ left imbibers feeling seriously ill.

“Like I said,” Prompto went on. “Nothing some Cup Noodles can’t cure. And probably a lot of hurling. Anyway,” he stretched his arms overhead, “I gotta go help with breaking in the new recruits. Can you believe it? _Me_ \- in charge. See ya!”

 

* * *

 

In his apartment’s tiny kitchen, Ignis stood facing the sink, drying the evening’s dishes and cutlery with a towel before putting them away in the cabinets to his right. Behind him, a pair of arms encircled his waist, a head leaned against his back.

“My compliments to the chef,” Valeria said.

Ignis smiled, at both the physical contact and that statement. “Rationing is making it difficult, but he is doing the best he can.” He’d finally resumed using the stove and oven for cooking; Valeria helped by keeping an eye on things and ensuring he didn’t inadvertently set anything on fire. It had been weeks since Ignis had actually gone to bed feeling full - the rations were enough to keep them from starving, but little more than that.

Valeria squeezed his sides. “Like I said - my compliments.”

“You have my thanks.” Ignis placed the final glass back in the cupboard and turned around to face her. “Not just for the compliments. For...for everything.” He wished he could better articulate his gratitude for all she had done for him in this dark time, for all the happiness and comfort her presence had brought him.

Ignis’s fingertips walked up her arms to rove the planes of her face, and he tried to connect the shapes he was feeling to his memory of her appearance. The majority of the time, he viewed his blindness as a hindrance, a source of frustration and sometimes embarrassment, an obstacle that he simply had to find a new way to overcome. But right now, feeling her smile and knowing he was unable to see it, that he would never be able to look upon her beautiful face or see his affection for her reflected in her eyes - the only way to describe that was _loss_ , a loss he grieved ardently. He tried to take comfort in his memories so as not to dwell on the sadness of it all.

The muscles of her mouth and eyebrows twitched beneath Ignis’s fingers, like she was growing confused or irritated with him.

“Permit me a few more moments to admire your face,” he implored. He felt her cheeks grow hot, and he chuckled. “Why are you blushing?”

“I don’t know.” Valeria’s eyelashes fluttered against his skin. “I guess I haven’t felt pretty in a long time.”

That admission seemed so absurd to him that Ignis nearly laughed out loud, but stopped himself, knowing she wasn’t joking. “Why ever not?”

Valeria sighed and leaned into his palm, placing her own hand atop his. “Being ordered around, corralled into tents, constantly on the run - it made me feel...” She trailed off as she searched for the right word.

“Like an animal?” Ignis supplied.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Like an animal.”

“And now?” he asked softly. “Do you still feel as if you’re in a cage?”

“No.” Ignis felt her smile once more. “I feel safe here. Protected.”

He couldn’t help the way his back straightened at that statement, the way his shoulders and chest suddenly felt a bit broader. “Good,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I am glad to hear it.”

Valeria took Ignis by the hand, leading him over to the couch in the center of the room. “What are you going to tell the others?” she asked. “About us.”

“Nothing,” Ignis replied. “It’s none of their business.”

Valeria laughed. “Somehow, I doubt Prompto gets that.”

“He doesn’t,” Ignis said. “He can find someone else through whom to live vicariously.”

 _It’s my life. Mine_. Such a simple sentiment, yet one Ignis had forgotten through the years, trying to live up to his uncle’s expectations, trying to do his best to serve crown and country. He had always endeavored to prove that he wasn’t like his late father, a wastrel and a fop, whose frivolous spending had driven the already-waning House of Scientia into debt, and whose reckless folly had driven himself and his young wife into the side of a mountain during a late-night snowstorm. _Your father was born with every advantage_ , Ignis’s uncle had once said to him. _And, one-by-one, he squandered them all_.

So, Ignis had kept his head down. He did as he was told, respected his betters, and always put others’ needs before his own. And, most of the time, he derived a real satisfaction from that, but somewhere along the way, Ignis’s own wants and needs had been lost. Uncovering them now was a work-in-progress, both frightening and exhilarating in turns.

“What are you thinking about, Iggy?” Valeria asked.

“My parents,” he admitted.

“Oh.” Her tone suggested she hadn’t been expecting such an answer. “Well,” she put a hand on his arm, “I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

Ignis inclined his head. “I’d like to hope so. And you...” He straightened his neck. “Your mother would be as well.”

Valeria paused. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I can’t help but think if she were here now, she’d already have all of Lestallum running like some well-oiled machine.”

He shook his head. “Your mother was certainly a formidable woman, but I somehow doubt that.”

“I don’t know, I...” Valeria sighed. “I always felt like a knockoff. Like if anyone looked too close, they could tell that I was just a phony, trying to be like her. Like I was never good enough.”

“Nonsense.” Ignis slung his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head. “You’re one-of-a-kind.”

“Flatterer.” Before he knew it, Valeria shifted and was straddling his lap, her hands on his lapels pulling him in for a kiss. A kiss which inevitably deepened until their tongues were intertwined and Ignis’s heart was pounding, thinking he had never tasted anything half so sweet.

Physically, their relationship hadn’t progressed past this stage, that even a child would consider innocuous and tame. Valeria made him feel fumbling and bumbling, like he was all hands, like his legs were always in the way; with her, he remained in a stunted state of adolescence, that bewildered boy standing on her mother’s porch after his first kiss.

Awkwardness aside, Ignis’s old-fashioned sensibilities dictated that there was a proper order to things, the correct way to formally woo and court a woman - and it didn’t involve jumping into bed with her the first moment one felt a stirring in his loins.

He felt more than a stirring now. It was almost embarrassing how quickly Ignis, master of self-control, roused at her touch, her mouth on his. Nearly a decade of longing was distilled into a tightness in his chest and in his trousers, one she absolutely had to be aware of by now.

When Valeria twisted her hips, relieving the pressure on his aching crotch, Ignis fell back on old habits and apologized.

“For what?” She laughed against his mouth. “Being attracted to me?”

“Er...” Here she was, leaving him tongue-tied once more. “For...well, for prodding you, I suppose.” Ignis knew his face had gone beet red. _Specs...you’re a moron_.

Again, she laughed and kissed the bridge of his nose. “I, um...” Her voice had suddenly grown quiet, almost shy. “I could, um...”

He felt her fingers on his belt buckle and swallowed hard. “Wait.” He grabbed her hands. “Allow.... Please allow me to reciprocate, first.”

Ignis didn’t even care that that sentence didn’t make sense. All he could think was, _this is happening_ , as she allowed his fingers to explore the slim, smooth planes of her bare thighs, as her fingers curled in the back of his hair.  _This is actually happening_. Buzzing filled his ears as his hand slid beneath her skirt, grazing the fabric of her underwear.

 _Beep-bzz_.

 _Dear Gods_ , Ignis thought, feeling Valeria’s breath hitch against his face. _I may not last long enough for her to reciprocate_.

 _Beep-bzz_. _Beep-bzz_.

He paused. That sound wasn’t the blood rushing in his ears. It was coming from across the room.

“Is...” Ignis had to cough to keep his voice from cracking. “Is that your phone?”

“W-what?” Valeria whispered in his ear. The _beeps_ immediately followed by a buzzing vibration sounded once more. “Dammit,” she muttered. “No one _ever_ calls me. Why now?”

 _Why now, indeed_ , Ignis lamented. Aloud, he said, “It could be EXINERIS with another task for you.”

And, because they were both still learning how to be selfish and how to say ‘no’ to their betters, Valeria slid off Ignis’s lap with a sigh of frustration, while Ignis couldn’t help but groan. If nothing was done about this, he was going to be miserably sore in the morning.

He heard her snatch up the phone. “Three missed calls,” she said. “I don’t recognize this number. Oh!” The phone buzzed again. “It’s a message.” She walked back to Ignis as she read.

“‘ _Hi, pumpkin. I just made it to Lestallum. Can you come get me down at the gate?_ ’”

“‘Pumpkin?’” Ignis chuckled, bemused. “Who in the world calls you ‘pumpkin?’”

Next to him, Valeria froze. “My dad.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I kinda love Valeria's dad (even though he has the _worst_ timing ever).

Valeria stared down at her phone in disbelief. _Dad_. _Dad is_ **_here_**.

All the desire, the anticipation at Ignis’s touch had been slapped right out of her, like a bucket of ice water to the face. It had been replaced with the irritation that always accompanied contact with her father, conflicting with the relief that he was alright.

Valeria had sent him a message that she was safe in Lestallum, but hadn’t heard anything in response for weeks. She _knew_ her father was alive - at the end of the world, she was certain there would be cockroaches, daemons, and her father - but that didn’t mean he was protected from harm.

Ignis rose from the couch with a long, heavy sigh and retreated to the bathroom, accompanied by the sound of water splashing in the sink. When he emerged, he was wearing his sunglasses, and the tent that had formed in his pants was almost deflated.

“Well?” he asked her, slipping on his shoes.

Valeria remained rooted to the spot. “What?”

“We _are_ going to get him,” Ignis replied, his tone half a question.

Her mind lurched, suddenly catching up to him, then spinning forward. Her father was here. And he had nowhere else to stay.

“This is going to put a damper on... _things_ ,” she said, recalling the sweet ache between her thighs and the thudding of her heart just moments before.

“I’m well aware,” Ignis muttered through clenched teeth.

“You are _not_ sleeping on the floor,” Valeria stated, snatching up her boots and coat.

Ignis froze with one arm through the sleeve of his own jacket. “Er, well...it _is_ your father. I wouldn’t want him to think anything untoward-”

“He doesn’t care,” she snapped, cutting him off. _He doesn’t get to care_.

Ignis clamped his mouth shut, and Valeria immediately chided herself for speaking so harshly. Her father’s sudden reappearance - especially right when they were in the middle of certain _things_ \- had set her on edge, brought all her walls up, and precisely none of that was Ignis’s fault. When she went to place a hand on his cheek and apologize, Valeria found herself laughing instead.

“Oh Gods, Iggy - your hair!” It was sticking out every which way but right, contrasting sharply with his neatly pressed suit.

“That’s your doing.” Ignis’s tone was grave, but a smile played upon his lips.

“I know. Here.” Valeria stood on her toes, using her fingers to put it in some semblance of order.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said after she patted him on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t do to meet your father looking unkempt.”

The mirth Valeria felt suddenly faded. “You met him before,” she said as they exited the apartment.

“I recall. But that was quite some time ago.” Just over five years to be exact. And though the encounter had only lasted a few minutes, it had been more than enough time to leave Valeria feeling both flustered and embarrassed on Ignis’s behalf.

“Then you’ll recall that he likes to make a lot of jokes. Just...” Ignis took her arm as they left the apartment building, the stink of the crowded Lestallum streets filling her nostrils. “Just don’t take anything he says personally, okay?”

She knew Ignis’s self-esteem was a precarious thing; he’d been trying so hard to regain the confidence he’d lost to that Imperial strike, and she would never be able to forgive her father if he toppled all the progress Ignis had made with some careless remark.

“Don’t you want to see him?” Ignis asked.

“I’m glad he’s okay. I just...” Valeria shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“Of that I have no doubt. You can talk to me about these things - if you’d like. I happen to be all ears.”

“Thanks, Iggy.”

Valeria stopped at the insistent beeping of a car horn, pausing to allow a rickety-looking pickup truck to slowly trundle past them down the street. How could she explain to Ignis how her father had hurt her, betrayed her by leaving her behind, when Ignis’s own parents were dead? No matter how lacking, how infuriating her relationship with her father was, it didn’t seem right to complain about him to someone who’d been robbed of the opportunity in the first place.

Ignis didn’t press her further and they completed the rest of their walk in companionable silence until Valeria brought them to a halt.  
“Here are the gates,” she said, looking around. “But where-”

“There she is!” She recognized her father’s voice right away, and caught sight of him through the heavy metal bars on the opposite side of the entrance to the city, his head peering over a guardsman’s shoulder. “Sweetie, tell these _fine gentlemen_ to let me in.”

Valeria let out a heavy sigh. _Here we go_. “Give me a minute to handle this,” she said to Ignis, leaving him standing next to the concrete mouth of the tunnel.

“Did you lose your I.D.?” Valeria asked her father as she stepped forward.

“City’s full, miss,” said the guardsman who stood between the two of them. “We’re only allowing relatives of current residents inside. The rest get sent off to the Fort.”

“And that’s my daughter, you numbskull,” her father replied. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

Valeria now saw that her father’s identification was in the guard’s right hand, so she fed hers through the slots in the gate.

“See,” her father said as he leaned over the documents. “Same last name. And same nose,” he added, rather proudly.

The guard pursed his lips, then handed their documents back, looking rather disappointed that he had to permit entry to the man who’d just insulted his intelligence.

As soon as he was through, Valeria’s father pulled her into a tight embrace, and, though she wanted to be annoyed with him, though the rational part of her was screaming to keep her walls up, she found herself leaning into his touch, and all the warmth and sense of security it provided, however fleeting she knew it to be. _Daddy..._

Mentally shaking herself out of it, Valeria pulled away, finally getting a good look at him. Her father was tall and slim like Ignis, although not nearly as fit, and aside from being a little rumpled, appeared no worse for his time outside the safety of Lestallum. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was falling out of its ponytail, and his shoes were scuffed and dusty - none of which was out of the ordinary for him.

“Oh, my little girl,” her father said as he hugged her once more, this time rocking her side to side. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Over his shoulder, she caught the guard giving them an impatient look. “Come on, Dad,” Valeria said, pulling him along. “They don’t like people loitering down here by the gate.”

“Oh yeah,” her father replied mockingly. “It really detracts from all the charming ambiance. You know - the garbage, the sewer smell, the-”

“It’s safe,” she said, cutting him off. “Where’s your bike?”

“Had to pawn it,” her father replied, his voice lamenting.

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” Sometimes she seriously thought he cared more about his motorcycle than her.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like it’s easy to fill up on gasoline, anyway.”

Ignis was still standing where she’d left him, and Valeria stopped, positioning herself in between the two men like a referee.

“Dad, this is Ignis. You met him before.”

“Hmm... ” Her father furrowed his brow, looking the younger man up and down. The way Ignis stood now, with his hands folded and resting atop his cane, made it look more like a status symbol than assistive device. “I don’t remember any snappy dressers.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance once more,” Ignis said smoothly, extending his hand in greeting at the same time her father did. There was an awkward moment that Valeria could’ve sworn lasted several hours where both their hands hung in the air several inches apart, but in reality only a second or two passed before her father connected and the two men shook.

“Tenebrae, huh? I guess it’s sort of coming back to me. Weren’t you some kind of bigshot?”

“Well, I...” Ignis fiddled with his collar, a clear indicator that such a declaration made him uncomfortable. “I serve the Crown, I suppose, but-”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah.” Valeria’s father snapped his fingers. “Now I remember you. Mister fancy-pants out doing stuff for the King. Guess you got a lot more free time these days.”

“Dad,” Valeria said, shooting her father a silencing look. _Please shut up_.

Fortunately, Ignis did not dignify that statement with a response, instead asking, “Do you need any assistance with your things?”

“Nah,” her father replied, patting the knapsack over his shoulder. “Always did like to travel light.” He turned back to Valeria. “So, is he your boyfriend now?”

She saw Ignis’s mouth drop open, but Valeria answered without hesitation, her tone challenging him to disapprove. “Yes. Come on, Iggy.”

Valeria took Ignis, who still looked a bit bewildered, by the hand, and began the trek back to their apartment. Had it been her mother, she would have spluttered out some excuse, too afraid to do or say anything that might meet with her ever-harsh disapproval. But, she almost _wanted_ her father to say something, just so she could tell him he’d forfeited the right to have an opinion about her life the moment he walked out of it. But, he merely shrugged and fell into step alongside them up the cracked sidewalk, making more wiseass remarks about the city’s (lack of) sanitation.

“From the way everyone talked, I thought Lestallum would be brighter than this,” he said.

“They dim the lights in the evening,” Valeria explained. “They’re trying to keep people with some semblance of night and day.”

“Ah. Well, even so, I don’t think you’re gonna need those sunglasses any time soon, son.”

Valeria skidded to a halt and whirled on her father, feeling anger ignite in her belly. “No,” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. “You _do not_ get to joke about that. Do you hear me?”

Her father recoiled, both confusion and shock playing upon his features at her sudden outburst. “What?” he asked, bringing his hands up defensively. “Joke about what? His clothes?”

 _Oh my Gods_ , Valeria thought. _You great, lumbering idiot_.

Ignis, ever tactful, cleared his throat. “I admit that it’s partially due to vanity, but on occasion, the city lights can pain what remains of my eyes.”

 _Get it_. Valeria stared at her father with her own eyes wide, as if she could use them to directly launch her thoughts into his mind. _Don’t make me spell it out_.

Her father’s expression, taking in Ignis’s appearance once more, melded from one of puzzlement to realization to chagrin.

“O-oh, shit. _Shit_. Sorry, son. You know, I... I like to make bad jokes.”

“No kidding,” Valeria muttered, turning back to the sidewalk when her father had to open his mouth once more.

“What happened to you?”

“Dad,” she hissed. _You can’t just ask people that!_

“The Empire happened to me,” Ignis stated matter-of-factly. “A casualty of war.”

Valeria whipped her head around. _In war, there are casualties_ . It was a common phrase, certainly, and only coincidence that Ignis used it to describe his injuries now, but the _way_ he said it, in the same flat, even tone that the Imperial officer had used to justify the shooting of her mother - that was something Valeria found deeply disturbing. Yes, war inevitably had casualties - that didn’t mean they should be easily accepted and dismissed.

“Gods damned Niffs,” her father muttered after they resumed walking.

“Did you encounter any of them out there?” Ignis asked, undoubtedly trying to change the subject.

“Nah. At least not any that weren’t smart enough to keep their mouths shut,” Valeria’s father replied. “Just a bunch of loonies at Galdin Quay.”

“Something’s happened at Galdin?” Ignis asked.

“It was fine for a while. We had some people out on the boats, a few guys with guns on the perimeter - everyone mostly kept to themselves. But then one day this fella’ showed up and started filling everybody’s heads with crap. He had a real thing about ‘non-contributors.’”

“So - you,” Valeria said.

“Yeah, me. You want to call me a lazy bastard? That’s fine. But he started calling out old people. Kids. And everyone else was too yellow-bellied to tell him he was wrong. I swear, you give some people an ounce of power...”

“That’s troubling,” Ignis interjected. “The Marshal will want to hear about this - not right now, but when you have time.”

“Son, I got nothing _but_ time.”

Valeria turned to her father. “The Marshal is Cor Leonis, Dad.”

His eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Cor ‘the Immortal?’ Well, I’ll be damned. No wonder they say Lestallum is the safest place to be.”

 _See_ , Valeria wanted to say to Ignis. _You’re the only one who_ **_doesn’t_ ** _think he’s a big deal_. She could’ve sworn he muttered something under his breath.

“The apartment’s past the market, here,” Valeria said as they came upon the maze of stalls. There were far less merchants present these days, but any vacated spaces had quickly been filled by loiterers.

Her father chuckled to himself as he looked around, face wearing the same sense of wonderment Valeria was certain she’d exhibited her first time through.

“Don’t buy anything stupid,” she said to him. “We don’t have the space for it.”

When they entered Ignis’s tiny flat, her father said, “Damn. You weren’t kidding about the space.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” Valeria said as she hung up her jacket, hoping her tone made it clear that it was non-negotiable.

“Alrighty.” Her father crossed the small space and plopped down on the couch with a contented sigh, kicking off his boots into the middle of the floor. Valeria quickly crossed in front of Ignis and snatched them up, dropping them in her father’s lap with an admonishing look. Before they could argue about it, Ignis’s phone rang.

“Who could it be _now?_ ” He frowned as he took the call. A moment later, he said, “Iris. What’s wrong?”

Valeria could hear a female voice on the other end of the line, but it was too quiet and garbled for her to make out what Iris was saying.

“Sit tight, Iris. I’m on my way.” Ignis pocketed his phone and turned around to once again put on his jacket.

“What’s happened?” Valeria asked him, concerned. The city chimes had sounded eleven not long ago, and it was unlike Iris to disturb them so late unless something was seriously wrong.

“It seems that Iris is in need of some assistance wrangling her drunken elder brother.” Ignis grabbed his cane by the door. “I can take care of it,” he added when Valeria moved toward him.

“You want me to take you?” she asked as he opened the door.

“I know the way. I wouldn’t wait up, though.”

And with that, Valeria was left alone with her father.

“He’s nice,” he said. She turned to him, picking up his knapsack that he’d dropped haphazardly by the door.

“You _can not_ leave your crap lying around. I’m serious. You pull out a chair, you put it back exactly where you found it. Same with anything in the cupboards.”

“Jeez...A couple of neat freaks, huh?”

Valeria shot her father an incredulous look. _Are you really this dense_ ? “He’s _blind_ , Dad. This is the one place where he shouldn’t have to worry about running into things.”

Her father shrugged, but he did tuck his boots under the couch. “Seemed okay going off by himself just now.”

“Yeah.” Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “‘Okay.’ That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him.”

Her father’s voice dropped to a tone resembling serious. “Just how bad is it? His eyes.”

“He can tell when the lights are on.” Valeria glanced at the bulb overhead. “That’s about it.”

“That happen when they blew up Insomnia?”

“No. He was away with the Prince when...” _When Mom died_. “It was Altissia.”

“Ohh. Yeah, I saw the aftermath of that up close. Passed through there on my way back to Lucis.”

“What happened to your ‘girlfriend?’” Valeria didn’t even try to keep the disdain out of her voice.

“Went nuts after the Hydraean attacked. Dumped just about everything she owned into the ocean as an ‘offering,’ and then she dumped me when I told her that it was stupid.”

Valeria rolled her eyes. _You sure know how to pick them_. “Do you want something to eat?” Her father followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table. “Ignis usually cooks, but I’ve picked up a few things from helping him.”

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a real homemaker,” her father said, rifling through his pockets.

“It’s not like that.” Valeria put a small pot of water on the stove. “Cooking’s his hobby. We share the rest of the chores.”

“Well, well. How egalitarian.”

Valeria looked up from the stove to shoot her father a withering look. “Do you have to commentate on everything?”

All her father did was laugh. “You sound just like your mother.”

“Don’t-” _Don’t talk about her. Don’t compare me to her_. “Just...don’t.”

Her father shrugged once more, and then Valeria spied what he’d dug out of his pockets: a pipe, along with a pack of matches and a small tin.

“Are you even going to _ask_ if you can smoke in here? Also, how in the world did you get your hands on tobacco?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes as he struck the match, igniting the contents of his pipe. He puffed on it a few times, then made an elaborate show of tossing the  extinguished match into the trash can.

“Your old man’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve.”

Noting that he didn’t bother to answer her first question, Valeria cracked the nearest window. In truth, she loved the smell of pipe smoke - it took her back to evenings when she was small, sitting at home with her father and giggling as he made funny faces at her and tickled her ribs. How long had she yearned for this, to sit with him at home once more, not a quick lunch at a restaurant or a phone call? So many years of disappointment had conditioned her not to get too comfortable in this moment.

She dropped a packet of instant noodles in the boiling water, set the timer, and then took a seat opposite her father at the table.

“Is that how you got to Lestallum? A ‘trick?’”

“Not a trick.” Her father pulled out his wallet and slid a well-worn photograph across the table. Valeria recognized her seven-year old self immediately, smiling wide, exposing a large gap where she’d lost one of her front teeth.

“The fella’ who dropped off all the batteries said he was heading back to Lestallum, so I told him about all the horrible things you’d been through. Didn’t even have to lie, really. I _may_ have neglected to mention that this picture was fifteen years old.”

Valeria shook her head, although she couldn’t help but chuckle. _You wily old bastard_. “I remember this,” she said, tapping the photo. “Mom was so mad that my tooth fell out right before picture day. She told me to smile with my mouth shut.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t listen. Because _this_ is adorable.” He stowed the picture back into his wallet and then patted her cheek. “Still are. And I’m not just saying that because you mostly take after me.”

“Dad...” Valeria rolled her eyes once more, although this time she wasn’t really annoyed.

“I’m proud of you, honey. I know you’ve really been through some shit, but you’re tough. A hell of a lot tougher than me.”

Valeria had to look away then, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. _I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you_. Those words...

She was saved by the insistent ding of the kitchen timer. Hastily rising to her feet, she dumped the contents of the pot into a bowl and handed it to her father along with a spoon.

“Eat your soup, Dad.”

“Soup? Pumpkin, I don’t think I’d call this _soup_.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, getting to the Leville from his apartment was the easy part. Ignis thought Valeria and her father ought to have some time alone to catch up, and, right now, he needed a moment to himself as well. He was feeling rather annoyed - annoyed that they were interrupted just as they’d begun to take the first small step in deepening their relationship, and then annoyed with Valeria for suddenly acting like he was made of glass.

Normally, she was very good about helping Ignis when he needed it, but leaving him to sort most things out on his own; he could only imagine that the sudden appearance of her father had sent her into an emotional tailspin that, for whatever reason, caused her to hover and fuss over _him_.

Ignis knew he ought to be annoyed with Gladiolus for making trouble for his sister, but right now he was relieved for the out. Iris met Ignis down the street from the hotel-turned-tenement building, her voice small as she took his arm.

“He won’t come inside.” She sighed. “I’m really sorry. But I didn’t think he’d listen to Prompto, and the Marshal...”

“The Marshal doesn’t understand,” Ignis said, finishing her thought. He knew what this was _really_ about.

“Gladdy.” Iris stopped, repeated her brother’s name, louder. “ _Gladdy_.”

Ignis heard Gladio’s heavy breathing from where he sat a few paces away and could smell the liquor practically oozing out of his every pore.

“I’ll get him inside.” Ignis patted Iris’s hand on his arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Indeed. Go see to Talcott. We’ll be along shortly.”

As Iris’s footsteps receded, Ignis prodded Gladiolus in the shin with the tip of his cane. “Gladio. _Gladio_.”

“Iggs...” Gladiolus slurred, his voice booming but lacking any sort of cheer. It was impossible to get any sort of privacy on the streets of Lestallum these days, no matter the time, but Ignis could only hear a few scattered conversations surrounding them. If Gladiolus was causing a scene, no one seemed to mind.

“Have a drink, man.” A bottle, wet and sticky, was clumsily thrust into Ignis’s empty hand, a few dregs of liquid sloshing around at the bottom. Ignis brought it up to his nose, sniffed, and immediately recoiled. The drink smelled as Promtpo had described: more like it was fit for disinfecting wounds than human consumption. He poured what was left of it out onto the pavement.

“What the hell, Iggy?” Gladiolus growled.

“We don’t need any more of us going blind.”

“Dammit, Iggy.” Gladio’s voice was suddenly muffled, like he’d brought his hands over his face. “How can you joke about it...?”

Although Ignis had intended to treat his obviously miserable friend with compassion, he quickly found his already-waning patience wearing thin. “Would you prefer if I sat around in my cups feeling sorry for myself?”

Gladiolus merely groaned.

“You can’t do this,” Ignis said. “You have people depending on you. I understand-”

“ _Do_ you understand, Ignis?” Gladiolus snarled. “Because you’re not the one who fucked everything up.”

Ignis frowned. “No, that would be giving me _far_ too much credit, not when everyone seems to think I can barely wipe my own backside.”

“Gods dammit, Iggy!” Gladio was on his feet, gripping Ignis painfully by the shoulders, spewing his hot, sour breath right into Ignis’s face. “I don’t think that! I don’t think that...”

Ignis took a deep breath. One of them had to keep a level head; Iris hadn’t called him here to get in a shouting match with her brother.

“I apologize,” he said, pushing Gladiolus back down into a seated position. He needed the height advantage if he was going to talk any sense into him.

“Don’t apologize.” Gladiolus had gone from angry to dejected in the space of a few seconds. “You did everything you could... you...” he trailed off, muttering incomprehensibly to himself. “What happened to you...it was my fault.”

So much for Ignis keeping his irritation under control. “This nonsense again?”

“If I’d gotten there sooner...”

“Can you stop mortar rounds with your bare hands? No, you can’t,” Ignis answered for him when Gladiolus started to speak. “You pulled me out of the water. You _saved my life_. Is that not enough for you? Because it’s enough for me.”

Ignis paused, but Gladiolus didn’t respond. “Gladio, look at me. Are you looking at me?”

“Yeah...”

Ignis gestured toward his eyes. “If _I_ can accept this, then surely _you_ can accept this. Do you understand?”

Gladiolus gave a heavy sigh and grabbed the empty bottle from Ignis’s hand, made a grunt of frustration, and then there was the sound of glass shattering somewhere off to his left. Ignis clucked his tongue in disapproval. As if Lestallum needed any more litter.

“Gladiolus Amicitia. _Shit_. My ancestors must be rolling in their graves,” Gladio muttered. “The King’s Shield without a damn King.” He laughed bitterly. “Like the punchline to one of Prompto’s stupid jokes.”

“I doubt your predecessors would approve of your wallowing,” Ignis said. “But the King _will_ return.”

“Why’d they take him?” Ignis couldn't actually see what Gladiolus was doing, of course, but he imagined him opening and closing the fist on his sword arm, staring down at his empty hand. “Why’d they leave _us_?”

Ignis stuck his cane out to Gladio’s right until he found the bench where the man was slumped and sat down beside him.

“Noct is the ‘Chosen,’” Ignis said gently. “I’m not entirely certain what that entails, but I believe there will be places where we can’t follow.”

That made him feel every bit as frustrated and impotent as Gladiolus, but it was what it was. Whether fate or chance had selected them to fight at the Chosen King’s side, they remained mere mortals. Men. Pawns to be moved about, triumphant one turn and sacrificed the next.

“Noct will return to us,” Ignis repeated. “But, in the meantime, look around you. Look at what the world’s become. There are no shortage of people who are in need of your sword and shield. Perhaps...” The thought suddenly came to him. “Perhaps, _that’s_ why we were left behind. We may not have the power to bring back the Light, but we can make this a world worth saving.”

“A world...worth...saving.” Gladio rolled the words around in his mouth. "A world worth saving."

Ignis clapped him on the shoulder. “I like the sound of it. How about you?”

“Yeah.” Gladiolus grunted in agreement. “Sounds pretty good.”

“Excellent.” Ignis stood and held out a hand. “Now, I promised your sister I’d get you back inside.”

“Can’t break a promise to Iris.”

“Indeed.”

Gladiolus grabbed Ignis’s offered hand and rose to his feet - more than a bit wobbly, leaning heavily on Ignis’s shoulder, but the pair of them somehow managed to make it up the stairs of the Leville without toppling over, so Ignis considered it a victory.

“Iris.” Gladio banged on the door to their suite. “Iris, open up.”

The door creaked open and Iris hissed, “Keep it down, Gladdy.”

With Iris leading the way, the trio stumbled over to the couch, and Gladio slumped down, the cushions sighing with his weight.

“Um...is...is everything okay?” It was a boy’s voice, timid, off to Ignis’s right.

“Gladio’s just feeling a bit ill, Talcott,” Ignis quickly replied. “He’ll be alright in the morning.” Well, probably far from _alright_ , but he would no longer be intoxicated. Ignis gestured toward what he hoped was Talcott’s bedroom. “Off to bed, now. You need your rest for school tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh...yes, sir,” Talcott said. “I...I hope you feel better, Mister Gladio. Good night.”

Ignis let out a small sigh of relief when he heard Talcott’s door close. He knew a drunk man was hardly the worst of what the boy had seen at this point, but nonetheless wanted to shield him from as much unpleasantness as he possibly could.

“Should we put him in the shower?” Iris asked.

Ignis shook his head and began to pull off Gladio’s boots. “Let him sleep it off. A glass of water should help.”

Ignis heard the faucet running as he strained against the larger man’s bulk, attempting to get him into some sort of reclining position on the couch.

“Iggy...” Now that he was prone, Gladiolus already sounded half-asleep.

“What?”

“We good?”

“We’re good, Gladio. We’re good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed it, the first meeting between Ignis and Valeria's dad is shown in my Solstice side-story, [Errand for the King](http://captain-zajjy.tumblr.com/post/166083619247/errand-for-the-king-a-solstice-side-story-ffxv).


	29. Chapter 29

Ignis had wanted to prepare a large breakfast using a few things he’d been saving for a special occasion, but Valeria insisted he do not waste them on her father’s account. So, he served their usual morning meal of dry toast with the thinnest smear of berry preserves. Before Ignis could apologize for the paltry spread, Mr. Soleil smacked his lips and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That sure hit the spot.” He even sounded like he meant it.

“I- it did?” Ignis blurted out.

“Couldn’t even tell you the last time I had bread, to be honest,” Mr. Soleil said. “All they had at Galdin was fish, fish, and more fish.”

After finishing his own toast, Ignis immediately went to the refrigerator and replaced the fish filet he’d set out to thaw with what remained of a behemoth steak Gladio had brought him weeks ago. It was barely enough for two people, let alone three, but Ignis had high hopes that a bit of red meat, however small, would go a long way in impressing the man. Valeria might not have cared what her father thought, but he certainly did.

And so, when Valeria left the two of them to have her first shooting lesson with Prompto, and Mr. Soleil asked Ignis if he’d like to accompany him on a stroll around the market, Ignis was left with a dilemma.

He desperately wanted to show her father that he was capable, that he wasn’t a burden to whom Valeria had to constantly play nursemaid. On the other hand, Ignis still struggled with the cacophony of the market; he hadn’t gone by himself since Valeria had joined him in Lestallum. _Have I become too dependent on her_? Even if he could manage by himself, short of forcing the man to wear some sort of bell, it would be impossible for Ignis to keep track of Mr. Soleil in the crowd.

Putting his pride aside, Ignis nodded. “I shall join you.” He _wanted_ to spend time with this man, the father of the woman he loved, get to know him and, Gods willing, obtain his approval.

Ignis donned his gloves and took up his cane, easily following behind Mr. Soleil in the familiar confines of the apartment building.

When the stink of the city streets assailed his nostrils, Ignis cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, moving it up Mr. Soleil’s back to grip his shoulder.

“If it’s not too much of a bother…”

He felt Mr. Soleil shrug in response. “Not using that shoulder for much, anyway.” His body was tense at first, as it always went with people guiding Ignis for the first time, but quickly relaxed when it became apparent that the only thing Ignis required of him was to proceed as he normally would.

“I can usually manage on my own,” Ignis heard himself say. “It’s just that with the crowds and maze of the market, it’s difficult to keep track of one’s companion, and I believe Valeria would be very cross with me if I lost her father on his second day, so I-” He knew he was babbling, and clamped his mouth shut. “I very much appreciate the assistance.”

Again, Mr. Soleil shrugged. “Not a problem, son.” Did he really not care? He certainly sounded indifferent, but Ignis felt that old specter of self-doubt rear its ugly head once more. Was he not thinking, ‘this is what my daughter has to put up with every day?’ _Blast you_ , Ignis said to the intrusive thoughts.

“So tell me - how does a son of Tenebrae come to serve the Lucian crown?” Mr. Soleil asked as they set out down the street.

It was a question Ignis had been asked many times before. “I was a small child when I immigrated to Lucis,” he explained. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

“So you got out of Tenebrae before the Niffs moved in, huh?”

Ignis nodded. “Had I not, I suspect I would have perished during the Empire’s Purges.” That had always struck him as the bitterest irony: he was alive today because his parents had died then, before the Empire had taken the country and eradicated the ruling class.

“Blue blood, eh?” Mr. Soleil asked.

“A minor noble house,” Ignis admitted. “And now, a nonexistent one, since the Empire abolished all titles and seized all holdings.” He knew he ought to feel some kind of sadness when speaking of the fate of the country where he was born, but, in truth, he felt very little. His uncle had said nothing when the news broke back on that fateful day over a decade ago, but had appeared ashen-faced, cleaning their already-tidy apartment in an aimless, mechanical way, like the walking dead. Ignis had not been able to understand, not until another fateful day in the near-past, when Insomnia was taken.

“Damn,” Mr. Soleil muttered. “They even killed the kids?”

“Root and stem.” There was a logic in that - cold and cruel, as logic often was - and part of Ignis loathed himself for being able to see it.

“Did you like your job?”

Such a simple question, and yet it nearly knocked Ignis off his feet. _Did I..._ **_like_ ** _it_? It was his duty; his personal feelings were irrelevant. And yet, here was someone asking, by all appearances in earnest.

“It...it was my whole world. For better or for worse.” Ignis knew that wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

Of course he liked it. Everytime Noctis asked for his counsel and heeded it, he liked it. Every time King Regis had favored him with an approving nod for a task completed, he liked it. Every time he did something that, in its own small, insignificant way benefited the people of Lucis, he liked it.

And he loathed it. Noct’s apartment covered in trash, the calls just as he’d finally settled into bed, the disparaging looks from the Lucian uppercrust at the foreigner who’d been chosen over their own flesh and blood to serve the Prince. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that last one any longer.

“Never been one to hold down a job for long, myself,” Mr. Soleil said. “I know, I know - try to contain your surprise.” Now that they were in the thick of the market, he frequently stopped and paused, humming tunelessly to himself.

“May I ask what you’re shopping for?” Ignis asked.

“You can, but I ain’t gonna tell ya. It’s a surprise.”

Ignis frowned. “I believe Valeria will be rather vexed by a ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Mr. Soleil replied, flippant. “And this way, you can tell her you didn’t know anything about it.” He clapped Ignis on the back. “Just looking out for you, son. I know she can be nasty when she’s mad.”

 _Well, yes_. Ignis knew better than to agree with him out loud.

“Still, not half as bad as her mother,” Mr. Soleil added offhandedly with a low whistle. “That woman, Gods rest her soul, could punch you in the gut, then kick you in the balls with a single sentence.”

Ignis lowered his voice. “You have my condolences on your loss.”

“We all lost something that day.” Ignis surmised that, glib as he was, Mr. Soleil’s former wife was an understandably sensitive subject.

“Indeed.” _We all lost something....starting with our innocence_.

“You’re probably wondering how someone like her ended up with someone like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to pry…” But, yes. Ignis had wondered that from the moment he’d met the man all those years ago.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too. Ol’ Viv sure was a piece of work. Ambitious, smart as a whip - I didn’t mind living in her shadow - that was alright.” He cleared his throat. “Once the company started getting real big she changed - or maybe that was who she really was all along. Hell, I don’t know. I just couldn’t take being treated like one of her damn employees, you know? But, she was the mother of my child. And for that, Vivienne will always be important to me.”

Mr. Soleil stopped abruptly. “Ohh,” he said. “Here’s what I’m talking about.” Ignis sidled alongside the older man as he chatted with the vendor, trying to make himself less obtrusive to the aimless throng of passers-by. He didn’t think many people actually did much shopping anymore - the market was simply a place to go, to idle away the hours until one’s next paltry meal, to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that pervaded the city’s population.

“Barter only,” the vendor said off to Ignis’s left, as something metallic clinked on the counter. “Don’t have any use for money these days.”

“A wise man,” Mr. Soleil crooned. “But this isn’t gil. This here’s ancient Solheim money, genuine, one hundred percent silver.”

“Don’t have much use for silver either.”

“Oh, but you will!” Mr. Soleil’s voice radiated confidence, assurance. “Silver’s an investment in your future. When all this is over, who knows what the gil will be worth, if anything. But silver? Always worth something! Way more than just these few things here.”

Ignis heard something rattle as it slid across the counter.

“Hmm…” the vendor responded.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me.” Another coin clinked as it was set down. “Double or nothing.”

“ _Fine_ ,” the vendor relented. Ignis tried not to chuckle at how thoroughly the man had been foxed.

“Thanks for doing business, my man.” There was the rustling sound of a paper bag, and then Mr. Soleil gave Ignis a nudge. Ignis placed his hand back on the man’s shoulder and they continued on their way.

“A silver tongue runs in the family, I see,” Ignis mused.

“Heh, well...I ain’t good at much - or anything, really. Just talking to people.”

“An extremely valuable skill, under any circumstances.”

“Eh. I guess.” Mr. Soleil paused. “Hey. Isn’t that my daughter’s necklace?”

“Oh.” Ignis resisted the urge to bring his hand up to the chain around his throat. “Well, I...she, er, gave it to me.”

“Ohhh.” The sing-songy way Mr. Soleil crooned reminded Ignis of Prompto. _At least he isn’t angry_. “You two go way back, then?”

“Since the Academy. First year.”

“That’s a good thing to have these days. Someone you _know_ you can trust, that ain’t gonna go up and bonkers on you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis nodded, ruminating on just how fortunate he’d been in that regard. Not only did he have Valeria, but the Amicitias, Prompto, the Marshal - all people he’d known for years, people whose intentions he never had to second-guess.

With his shopping concluded, Ignis took Mr. Soleil to pick up his ration vouchers, explaining how Valeria had played a pivotal role in establishing the food bank that now fed the entire city. On the way home, they stopped somewhere - Ignis wasn’t entirely sure where, exactly - to sit on a curb and ‘people watch,’ which seemed like it would be terribly depressing, but since Mr. Soleil was apparently quite keen on it, Ignis went along.

Since he obviously could not _watch_ the passersby, Ignis instead worked on drumming up the bravery to ask a very important question.

“Sir, I…” Ignis plucked at his collar, nerves suddenly causing his stomach to churn. “I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

Mr. Soleil let out a hearty guffaw, and Ignis’s dark thoughts immediately began to swirl. _Is that really such a laughable request? Have I read him all wrong_?

“Damn, kid. You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Er-”

Mr. Soleil clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Here’s some advice - typically, you wanna ask that question _before_ sharing a bed with the lady in question.” Ignis felt his face flush hot, stammering out something that was half-apology and half-explanation, making very little sense.

“You’re both adults,” Mr. Soleil went on, still chuckling. “Only person’s permission you need is hers. Besides, it ain’t like she ever cared what I thought before.”

“I care,” Ignis asserted, despite his embarrassment. He knew her mother never would have approved, and even less so now. But there was still hope for her father.

Mr. Soleil’s laughter tapered off into a lengthy silence. “Huh,” he finally said, sounding more surprised than amused. “You sure are an odd one. But if you want my blessing or whatever, then okay. I _know_ people, and I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Odd, but good.”

Ignis felt relief flooding his limbs and warmth filling his chest. _Good. A good person_. He’d never really thought of himself as such; he was just someone who had the fortune to serve good masters.

“Er...thank you, sir. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Although Valeria had serious reservations about leaving Ignis alone with her father, it wasn’t in her nature to break off an appointment at the last minute, especially when Prompto had so generously offered his time and expertise, asking for nothing in return. Before leaving, Ignis had reminded her that he was able to advocate for himself - his very polite way of telling her to back off.

Valeria sighed as she made her way to the high school. What was the worst her father could really do to Ignis? Make a cruel joke at his expense? Maybe she was just projecting her own fears onto him. Because her father _had_ hurt her, cut her down to the core, and he could absolutely do it again - if she let him. _I’m not a little girl anymore_ , she reminded herself. _I don’t need him anymore_. What a lie that was.

Fortunately, Prompto provided a welcome distraction. “No Iggy?” he asked after greeting her.

“He’s entertaining a guest,” she replied, praying Prompto didn’t nose into the matter further. He whistled, but let it go, and she followed him to the school’s gymnasium.

“Got the place to ourselves for the next hour,” he said. Toward the back of the large room, a human-sized target had been strung up on a crude pulley system between the basketball hoops. Upon further inspection, she saw that the target was a photograph of an older man, blown up to life-size, its subject sporting auburn hair, a striped scarf, and a sickeningly smug grin.

“Ardyn,” Prompto explained, his usual sunny disposition suddenly uncharacteristically dark.

It took Valiera a moment to place the name. “The Imperial Chancellor.”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto had turned his attention to loading his special rubber bullets into a small revolver.

She turned back to the photo. “ _This_ guy is the Chancellor? He looks like a bum.” He wasn’t wearing a uniform, not even a badge of office.

“He _is_ a bum. And a lot of other words Iggy says I shouldn’t say in front of a lady. So-” Prompto handed her the gun, then took a step behind her. “Put a couple between his eyes for me, will you?”

Valeria turned the weapon over in her hands and exhaled deeply, trying to recall what she’d been taught back in high school. Target shooting, along with archery and fencing, had been part of the physical education curriculum, not to train future soldiers or even for self-defense, but because, for Insomnia’s elite, such things were - or had been - considered leisure activities, sport, a way to pass the hours when you had no real obligations on your time.

She raised the gun, both hands on the grip, and took aim at the Chancellor’s forehead. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and the recoil startled her, jerking her arms backward. After composing herself, Valeria turned toward the target, noting a small hole along the man’s hairline. _Okay, not exactly between the eyes._

Valeria shook her head, let her heart rate come down, this time aiming lower. By the time the six rounds were spent, she had decent grouping in the target’s face.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Prompto handed her six more rounds, which she loaded much slower and more clumsily than he had. When she looked up, Prompto was behind her near the basketball hoop, tugging on a string.

“How about a moving target?” The cut out of the Chancellor danced along the rope as Prompto pulled it. _Oh Gods_ …

Valeria tried to track the movement with the barrel of the gun, but her first two shots missed the target entirely. Then she tried leading it, but went too far, ending up with only two of the six shots hitting the Chancellor at all - in the side of his arm.

“Well, you winged him.” Prompto gave her an encouraging smile and handed over more rounds. They repeated this until his supply of rubber bullets was spent, and Valeria stared at the target in frustration as Prompto gathered up the spent casings and rounds to be reused. In all of that shooting, she’d hit the target in the chest exactly once, and the majority of her shots had missed it entirely.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said with disgust. There were few things she hated more than failure.

“What?” Prompto said. “It was your first time!”

“Yeah.” Valeria gestured at the target. “And I’m terrible.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody’s good at stuff their first time.”

 _I am_ , she thought. _And if I’m not, I don’t do it again_.

“You’re too tense.” Prompto pointed at the target, encouraging her to take aim with the unloaded gun. “See, your shoulders are up at your ears. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax if this thing were trying to kill me?”

Prompto chuckled. “Just like Iggy. Overthinking everything. You just gotta keep practicing.”

Valeria handed the gun back over with a deep frown. “Thanks, Prompto. Sorry I’m such a crappy pupil.”

“Bah.” Prompto threw up his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, you wanna see something cool I’ve been working on?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering just what she might be getting herself into.

Prompto led her to a small classroom on the second floor. Most of the student desks had been removed or pushed aside, the teacher’s desk and floor were littered with an assortment of wires and electronics.

“Just gimme a sec to get it set up.” As Prompto scuttled about, Valeria turned toward the front of the classroom. Someone (likely Prompto) had drawn a chocobo pecking at a stick figure whose hair was reminiscent of Prince Noctis on the chalkboard.

Next to that was a bulletin board, the border of which was decorated with a colorful pattern made from layered construction paper and a various shapes of a hole punch. If something had been hanging there before, Prompto must’ve taken it down, and replaced it with photos that had to have been taken while he and the others had been on the road for Prince Noctis’s wedding.

Some were posed, many were candid, and Valeria was struck by just how _content_ they all looked in one another’s company. A shot of all four of them with their car at Hammerhead Garage, Gladio leaning on Noctis outside of a diner, Ignis sitting by a campfire drinking his coffee. She knew that while these photos were taken she had been stuck in Insomnia, frightened and hurt, still reeling from the loss of her mother, but Valeria didn’t begrudge them their tranquility here. She was glad Ignis and the others had been able to have this time and these experiences together, knowing what misery the world had in store for them later.

“Those were the best times of my life,” Prompto said, standing next to her, looking at his photos with a faraway smile. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they let me tag along.”

Valeria tore her gaze away from the photo of Ignis and turned to him. “Is that why you joined the Crownsguard? Adventure?”

“Nah,” Prompto replied. “Noct’s my best friend. A job that’s basically just hanging out with him all the time? It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t.”

“It must be hard for you now.”

Prompto shrugged. “He’s gonna come back. Until then…” He gestured at the photographs. “And I’ve started tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Check this out.”

Prompto had cleared the teacher’s desk, leaving only two rectangular lights the size of her fist, crudely linked together with electrical tape, wires spilling out the back and hooked to a pair of large batteries.

“Are those...flashes? Like, for a camera?”

“Yup!” Prompto replied. “Studio grade. _Super_ bright. My first idea was to convert them to something like a flashlight, but it drained the battery way too fast. So, I slowed down the timing on the flash so that it fires for a couple of seconds, instead of like, half of one. It still needs some tuning, but right now I can get about five shots out of one battery.”

“Huh.” Valeria took a closer look at the device. “For daemons?”

“Yep. Got the idea after we fought that monster one back at the Fort. A few seconds of light probably won’t kill the big guys, but it should mess ‘em up pretty good.”

Valeria imagined it was similar to dousing someone in boiling water - even if it cooled right away, the damage was already done. “So, you won’t have to be Gladiolus to finish them off.”

Prompto snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Here, let me show you.” She joined Prompto behind the desk, and he leaned forward to flip the switch. “Uh, you might want to cover your eyes.”

“Then how can I see how it works?”

“Just sayin.” With one hand over his eyes - and his face turned away - he flipped the switch. The room instantly filled with brilliant white light, so bright she felt it searing through her eyes and right into her brain. Valeria shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, but it was too late. Her vision swam with white and yellow and violet starbursts, her head throbbed, and she clung to the desk to keep herself upright.

“Gods, Prompto!”

“I warned you!” he said. “But...it’s pretty cool, right?”

Valeria rubbed at her eyes. Splotches of the classroom began to return here and there, but her vision still swam with the blinding light. “I think that ought to do it. Stars above,” she muttered. She was still seeing them. “Don’t you think you should have safety glasses or something if you’re going to work on this stuff?”

“What, like goggles?”

Valeria sighed, wiping her watering eyes. “Goggles, sure. They make them like normal glasses too - or, they used to anyway. You seriously work on electronics without any safety gear?”

“I like to wing it,” he replied with a grin. _How are you even still alive_? “I think I might have put some gloves or something in the desk.”

Shaking her head, Valeria began to rifle through the drawers. She found a large amount of school supplies - markers, glue, paper punches in various shapes - and eventually pulled out a clunky pair of clear goggles missing the strap.

“I’ll take this stuff to the market,” she said, putting the things in her jacket pockets. “See if I can’t trade it for some _actual_ safety gear.” Now that she was finally able to see clearly again, she favored Prompto with a smile. “This is a really good idea, Prompto.”

“Oh, well…” He rubbed a hand over his reddening neck. “Just messing around, really.”

“I’m serious. This can save lives. Just... don’t hurt yourself in the process, okay?”

 

* * *

 

Valeria returned home to find Ignis in the kitchen and her father in the window sill, the top half of his body concealed behind the blinds. Before she could even ask, Ignis greeted her.

“Welcome back, my dear. How was your lesson?”

“It was...not good,” she admitted, never taking her eyes from her father. The only thing worse than being bad at something was having to admit she was bad at something.

As Ignis began to offer some words of encouragement, her father chuckled and hopped out of the window. “So, what - you miss the target once or twice?”

“A lot more than twice. What the hell are you doing?”

“I asked several times,” Ignis said from the kitchen. “He wouldn’t say.”

“Yeah, so don’t yell at him.”

Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me.”

“This, pumpkin - _this_ here is a gold mine.” Her father pulled up the blinds and lifted a terracotta pot almost reverently. A small lamp had been placed next to it on the sill, which she immediately identified as a UV lamp meant to mimic the lost light of the sun.

“A planter?” Valeria asked skeptically.

“Seeds.” Her father poked his finger into the soft soil filling the pot. “Tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” She let out a noise of disgust. “Really, Dad? Not food?”

“Alas.” Ignis let out a crestfallen sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for some fresh herbs…”

“Not half as what the nicotine addicts will pay when the cigarettes run out,” her father quipped, a shit-eating grin on his face. _Just another one of his idiotic schemes_.

“Like you’re not going to keep it all for yourself,” Valeria muttered.

“Well…” Her father winked. “You never know. Might be room for another pot or two here, too. As you’ll see,” he made an exaggerated demonstrative gesture, “everything’s tucked away, nothing underfoot. You won’t even notice it’s here.”

 _Except for the ridiculously bright lamp_ , Valeria thought with a frown, although she knew her father wasn’t really referring to her. All the things he’d acquired, even the bag of potting soil, were gathered on the window sill, and the cord of the lamp had been taped against the wall - an eyesore, but not a tripping hazard, and that was all she really cared about.

With no real reason to chastise her father further, Valeria was forced to relent. After he finished raving about their afternoon meal, she told both men about Prompto’s invention - and his apparent lack of safety concerns. The three of them spent the rest of the evening listening to the radio; Valeria and Ignis were beyond sick of the reruns, but her father laughed at every joke.

That night, laying in bed, she shamelessly watched as Ignis undressed, feeling her pulse quicken as the broad muscles in his shoulders and back worked and rippled as he moved. She remembered back in high school when she’d first noticed his shoulders and chest getting wider, noticed just how much taller he was becoming relative to her, and the multitude of strange, confusing feelings that accompanied those observations, feelings she had kept deep inside for so long. And now, if it hadn’t been for her damned father, already sound asleep and snoring a few feet away on the couch, she could have acted upon those feelings at long last.

Valeria couldn’t help her disappointment when Ignis covered his bare torso with a thin undershirt and crawled into bed alongside her. Swallowing all those things down, as she had time and again, she rolled onto her side, facing Ignis as he laid down on his back.

“Okay,” she began, her voice low. “Tell me how it _really_ was being stuck with him all day.”

Ignis’s lips parted in concern. “Your father,” he whispered. “He’s...he’s right there.”

“Can’t you hear him snoring? He’s not going to wake up unless we start shouting. Trust me.”

“I suppose ‘snoring’ is relative, but if you say so,” Ignis muttered. “It was a perfectly pleasant day. Truly.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” She studied Ignis’s face, striped by soft orange light that filtered in through the slats in the blinds. He didn’t _look_ like he was lying. “He didn’t call you names and do everything in his power to embarass you?”

“He can be a bit crass,” Ignis admitted. “But there’s no malice in it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

Valeria frowned. “He left me. He _abandoned_ me.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t made mistakes in the past,” Ignis said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around her back. “But given all that’s happened in the last year, I consider it a small miracle not only that you’re both alive, but have managed to find one another here.”

Valeria bit her lip. She knew he was right. “It scares me,” she admitted.

Ignis reached out with his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Why?”

“Because he hurt me. And I...if I let him in, what if he does it again?”

Ignis let out a knowing sigh and pulled her close. “You are strong. I suspect you can handle just about anything this world will throw at you. I admit I don’t know him well, but I believe he cares for you. I really do.” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble and buried her face into Ignis’s neck. “Oh… Have I upset you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a lot,” she said, managing to keep herself from crying. Valeria didn’t even fully understand all the overwhelming emotional baggage that accompanied the topic of her father, let alone possess the ability to articulate it. “I…” She’d already forced herself to face daemons - was her father really so frightening? “Okay, Iggy. I’ll try. But old habits might be kind of hard to break.”

“Ah,” he said after planting a soft kiss on her temple. “They really are, aren’t they? Even so, I’d daresay that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Valeria snorted. “I think your opinion of me is a little inflated, but thanks.”

Ignis smiled as they fell silent, appreciating the quiet comfort of each other’s company. After a while, he spoke. “Am I really your boyfriend now?”

Valeria couldn’t help but laugh. “That didn’t get past you, huh?”

“Few things do,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well…” Valeria nuzzled her head into his chest. “Of course you are - if you want to be. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Perhaps such an admission should have been accompanied by embarrassment, or apprehension that her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, but for Valeria, it was simply stating a fact. There was nothing to fear, because she knew Ignis felt the same. She turned her head to see him swallowing hard, adam’s apple bobbing at his throat.

“That is…” Ignis’s voice was trembling, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The last thing she had expected was to distress him.

Valeria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. “What is it?”

“I…” Ignis cleared his throat. “I never thought I was someone who could be loved.” Valeria began to speak, but he shook his head, so she let him continue. “All these years, I contented myself with being needed. I… I thought that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I-” His voice broke.

“Oh, Iggy…” Valeria wrapped her arms around him, planting kisses along his scarred cheek. “You _are_ loved - not just by me. Gladio, Prompto, Prince Noctis - they’re your friends. They don’t just need you; they love you. We all love you.” Different kinds of love, but one was no less valuable than another.

“When I was injured, my friends, they… I was helpless. I could do nothing for them, but they stood by me.” A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and Valeria wiped it away with her index finger. “When they wanted me to stay behind - and I know it was only out of concern for my well-being - I couldn’t bear it. I knew it was foolish, and it was dangerous, but it was as if all my fears were being realized: I was useless, no longer needed. The only value I saw in myself was in what I could do for others. If I was needed, then at least I...I wouldn’t be alone. ”

Looking at the man now, Valeria could see the boy who still lived buried deep inside, small and frightened and solitary, and her heart broke for that child who had lost his parents and his home, thrust into a strange new city filled with unfamiliar faces. Even if her mother had sometimes made it feel like her love was conditional, even if her father had made it seem like his love was only available when it was convenient for him, Valeria still knew her parents cared. They were still there, in her life, even if it wasn’t always when and how she wanted them to be.

Ignis might not have had that as a child, but he had a family now. Her, and the Amicitias, Prompto and Talcott, and of course, Prince Noctis.

“You’re not useless, Iggy. I need you,” she whispered, rubbing his cheek. “I need you, and I love you.”

“You don’t need me,” Ignis said, sounding almost pleased. “If something were to happen to me, you might grieve, but you would get by. You could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t end up taking ill from the mound of trash accumulating in your living room.”

In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Valeria giggled.

“That was only half a joke,” Ignis went on. “There was a time - a long time - when, if I didn’t do Noct’s chores, they simply wouldn’t get done. And I suppose I encouraged that, enabled his laziness in a way, to ensure that he continued to need me.”

“But he’s your friend.” Ignis’s hairstyle had begun to come undone, and Valeria pushed away the stray locks that had fallen forward into his face. “You don’t have to do anything like that so that he’ll keep you around.”

Ignis’s lips quirked upward in a smile, a smile that was tinged with sadness. “I- Yes. I understand that now. It certainly took me a while, but I understand, and I want to show him that when he returns. I want to thank him for being my friend.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“And you.” Ignis turned his head toward her, his hazy right eye looking through her, into the darkness only he could see. “Thank you. _Thank you_. For loving me, and for showing me that I am someone worthy of love.”

Now she was crying. Despite her best efforts to keep them contained, the tears began to fall. Ignis held her and kissed her softly on the mouth, and for this moment, at least inside the space of their narrow little bed, it felt like everything was finally as it should be and all was right with the world. Like all the terrible things that she’d seen and felt were somehow alright, because they’d led her to this time and place, in the arms of the man she adored.

“When this is all over,” Ignis said, wiping the moisture from Valeria’s cheeks. “Well, I hope you haven’t grown tired of me by then.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is my job - my duty - to advise the King of Lucis. Not to do his laundry. Anyone can do those mundane chores.” Ignis paused for a moment before continuing. “He will be surrounded by sycophants and people trying to further their own interest. What Noct will require isn’t a servant, but a friend, with whom he can speak plainly, and trust to tell him the truth, to keep him grounded. Which is all to say, I will no longer be working sixteen hours a day. Of course, if you still want to-”

“No,” Valeria said quickly, grinning from ear to ear. “That was a life someone else wanted for me. I want to help rebuild Lucis, but I want to be with you, too. And since everyone else seems to be able to balance work with their personal lives, I think we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Ignis was smiling as broadly as she was. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way back when I first conceived this story, this was always the character moment I wanted to hit for Ignis. It was so important to me that he learn how to become a "whole" person on his own, and not just someone whose entire identity was defined by Noctis. If you take nothing else away from this story, I hope that at least this character development works for you.


End file.
